Out of the Darkness
by Silver Bee
Summary: Sequel to A High Price to Pay - the aftermath of Virgil's kidnapping. Lots more of the other boys too.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer – the Tracys don't belong to me – as you all know!_

_This is the sequel to my first story 'A High Price to Pay'. I didn't intend to write a sequel - I was halfway through another story - but this just kept nagging at me until I gave in and started writing!_

Chapter One

Finding a parking space at the school was easy. This wouldn't have been the case if he'd arrived during school time, but at six o'clock in the evening it was a different matter. Jeff Tracy brought the car to a halt and sat back gathering his thoughts, preparing for a meeting with the principal which he knew was going to be difficult. It was actually the second time that he'd been here recently. The first time was to discuss Virgil's return to school following his kidnapping and subsequent return to his family. Then, Mrs Bourne had been supportive, undeniably concerned about the boy who she freely admitted was one of her favourite students. Talented in both academic subjects and the arts and generally well-behaved and polite, she wished she had a few more like him. Now, following several confrontations, both verbal and physical, and a number of complaints from other students' parents, it seemed she had changed her mind. Virgil had just been given a week's suspension following a particularly vicious fight and the principal, having already had several discussions with the boy's grandmother, had insisted on seeing his father.

Jeff stayed lost in thought for a moment, reflecting on the events of the past few months. Not memories of the actual kidnapping, of course – _that_ was a subject to be pushed away from conscious thought, though it still haunted his dreams. He hadn't expected Virgil to find it easy to readjust, but it had been more difficult than he'd anticipated. And it had been hard on all of them – there wasn't a single member of the family who hadn't been affected in some way. The hardest thing of all to deal with, of course, was the change in Virgil: previously confident and cheerful – though no angel as his brothers could testify - now veering wildly between miserable, fearful, angry and reckless, desperately reliant on his family for security.

He had been pleased when Virgil – for the first and, it would turn out, only time in his life – had begged to return to school, much to the incredulity of Gordon, who would have jumped at the chance to stay off for as long as possible and who had even offered to miss school himself in order to keep his brother company at home.

"I just want to get back to normal," Virgil had confessed. "If I can get back into school it might make it easier to forget." Jeff still remembered the wistful look which had accompanied this statement, knowing full well that Virgil would never be able to forget what had happened to him. He just hoped that in time the memories would fade and his son would be able to move on. But he'd worried about how well Virgil would deal with the questions his classmates were bound to ask. His closest friends had already been round to the house and had shown admirable restraint in avoiding the topic unless Virgil himself had raised it, but he was well aware that many students wouldn't be so tactful. It seemed that his concerns had been justified.

Thank you for coming, Mr Tracy, I appreciate you're a busy man."

"Not too busy to be concerned about Virgil," Jeff couldn't help feeling defensive.

"Yes, well, regarding Virgil, there's a lot to be worried about. I'm sure your mother has filled you in on the problems he's been experiencing. He's getting into fights, upsetting other students. I appreciate it's not his fault – we anticipated he might have some problems readjusting. But this isn't the Virgil I know. He was such a lovely boy before all this."

"He still is," Jeff growled.

"I know. Of course he is. But all that he went through in the summer has affected him badly. It can't go on like this."

"Virgil told me about the latest fight. Apparently this young man – James someone? – grabbed him and was teasing him about the kidnap. I'm not condoning Virgil, but you can understand him lashing out."

The principal regarded him calmly, making him feel like a disgraced child. "Yes, I can, and James has been disciplined. But the fact remains that Virgil's reaction was extreme. James has a broken nose – it took two teachers to pull Virgil off him."

Jeff sighed. There were obviously one or two little details Virgil had decided not to mention.

"That was the third fight in two weeks. And the other two were started by Virgil," Mrs Bourne reminded him. "But that's not all. I presume your mother told you about the incident in Virgil's English class?"

"That would be the poetry lesson?"

"That's right. _The Highwayman_ – I appreciate that Mr Ellis was thoughtless in reading the class a poem where two characters were shot, but even so, Virgil's decision to tell the class what a death by shooting was really like, in full, graphic detail, was perhaps not his wisest choice. Two of the girls had nightmares that night. Their mothers weren't impressed when they called me the next day."

"You think Virgil doesn't have nightmares?" Jeff snapped angrily. "He actually saw a man die; he didn't just hear someone talking about it. What do you think that does to a twelve year old boy?"

"It doesn't surprise me that he has nightmares. The question is: what are you doing to stop them?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jeff was incensed. How dare this woman accuse him of failing to help his son?

"I suggested counselling when we spoke before Virgil returned to school. I know you weren't keen. You felt that Virgil's decision to return to school proved that he was coping well without professional help. But he isn't. Oh, I'm sure he's fine at home with you and his brothers and his grandmother, where he feels protected, but the problem is that when he's in school he's away from that security. There are people around who he doesn't know – and you can see the fear in his eyes when he sees a strange adult. Also, there are students who, unfortunately, will enjoy pushing him until he snaps, just to see the fallout. If he doesn't learn how to deal with this you're going to end up with one seriously dysfunctional young man on your hands."

Jeff stared at her. The woman was talking nonsense. Or that's what he wanted to believe. Deep down though, he knew she had a point. Counselling had been suggested by the doctors who had looked after Virgil in the aftermath of his abduction, but Jeff wasn't too keen on the thought of one of his boys wallowing in that kind of emotional rubbish. Real men – _Tracy men_ – didn't indulge their feelings. And despite Virgil's emotional fragility, the boy himself had rejected the idea when Grandma had suggested a session with the school counsellor – though his eldest boys' subsequent mocking of the man implied that it was Mr Bennett himself who was the problem rather than counsellors in general. But things weren't getting better. Maybe it was time to reconsider.

She saw him considering her comments and softened her tone. "I want to help, Mr Tracy. But if things go on like this Virgil is going to end up suspended again and eventually I'm going to have to ask you to find another school. I really don't want that. I know this has been hard on him – on all of you - and I really do want to help him, but I have my other students to consider. "

"So what do you suggest?"

"If you want Virgil to continue his education here, then he has to see a counsellor. Or a psychiatrist. The choice is yours."

Harsh, but effective. She knew Tracy would opt for the lesser of the two. She sympathised. Her long conversation with Mrs Tracy had left her in no doubt that in such a testosterone-fuelled environment, anything suggestive of emotional weakness would be frowned upon. Tracy, Air Force and NASA veteran, was bound to be suspicious of what he would deem 'nonsense', but for Virgil's sake, it had to be faced.

"Well, you don't leave me much choice, do you?" Jeff finally replied. "Virgil needs stability. You're right about one thing – he still gets anxious around strangers. He wouldn't cope with a new school."

"Our school counsellor is more than capable –"

"No! If you don't mind, I think he needs to see someone who's not part of the school. I'll take advice and find someone."

"Thank you. It's for the best, you know."

"I suppose so," Jeff shook her hand unhappily wondering just what he was going to do with his damaged middle son.

He returned home to find the house relatively quiet. Gordon was in bed, still in deep trouble after misbehaving earlier in the week. Only Alan and Virgil were in the lounge, his youngest bathed and dressed in pyjamas ready for a bedtime story and Virgil curled up in a chair intent on a drawing. He didn't look up as his father entered the room.

"We need to talk," Jeff said to Virgil, picking up Alan and carrying him upstairs. "Give me half an hour."

Virgil sighed as his father left the room. Over two months since he'd been kidnapped and he felt just as lost and confused as he had the day he was rescued. Nothing made sense any more. One minute he'd be okay, even managing to forget what had happened for a minute, the next something would upset him and he'd find himself crying or shouting or lashing out at someone. He'd tried so hard to fit in when he returned to school, but he was constantly aware of pointed fingers and whispered voices. It seemed that everyone was either bending over backwards to accommodate him – for once there had been no '_What I did during the summer'_ assignment in English, though he'd been tempted to write one anyway to pin up on the notice board in order to stop all the whispering – or else they were crowding around him asking about his experience, eyes bright with excitement, desperate to know exactly what it had been like, whether or not the wildest of the rumours were true. Marcy Grainger had been the worst, he thought, begging him to go into detail about Mike Donovan's shooting. She'd got what she wanted alright – so what if it gave her nightmares. At least it had got her off his back.

The fights of course were another matter. Scott had chewed him out over those, especially when his broken wrist still wasn't fully healed, but Scott didn't understand. No one was _ever_ going to hurt him again, so if that meant getting the retaliation in first then so be it. He didn't regret what he'd done to James McCauley one bit – days of snide comments and jokes at his expense had caused the rage to build up and when he finally let go he'd surprised himself with the force of his fists. Of course, the fact that he was finally hitting a growth spurt helped. He'd grown two inches in the last month and put on some muscle, much to his relief. He'd also started to join Scott in working out, determined to increase his strength. Scott had threatened to stop training with him if it was just going to make him more handy with his fists, but when it came down to it, he was just too grateful to have his young brother back to refuse him anything. The recent friction between the boys was forgotten as Scott was determined to put Virgil first, to make up in some way for all he'd endured. No, Virgil thought, school hadn't been the escape he'd hoped for, though immersing himself in his studies had helped take his mind off things. It was other people who were the problem. Home was the only place he really felt secure.

Jeff came back into the lounge and sat beside Virgil.

"How's the drawing going?" he asked, indicating the sketch pad on Virgil's lap.

"Okay," Virgil said, passing it across to his father. Jeff was relieved to see the likeness of one of Alan's favourite cartoon characters. Virgil had sought release in his drawing after his return home and some of the resulting pictures had been decidedly disturbing.

"Alan will like that," Jeff said, aware that he was just putting off the inevitable. Virgil knew it too and set his sketchbook aside, sitting up straighter and looking his father in the eye as he asked about the meeting with Mrs Bourne.

"She's worried about you," Jeff said. "She thinks you need some help coping in school. She wants you to see a counsellor."

"I'm not talking to Mr Bennett!" Virgil said immediately.

"No, you're not. But I think it might be good for you to talk to someone."

"I talk to you," Virgil scowled. "And Scott and John."

Yes, but-"

"And Grandma."

"Virgil-"

"Anyway, what's the point of talking? Nothing's going to change what happened."

"No," Jeff agreed - that was the problem, of course. "But it might help you feel better about it."

"I'm doing okay."

That was Virgil's stock answer these days. But they both knew he wasn't anywhere near okay.

"Virgil, you can't keep hitting out at people who upset you. You didn't mention that boy's broken nose, by the way."

"Well, now they'll know to keep out of my way, won't they?"

"It's not going to be that simple. Mrs Bourne has decided that unless you get help she's going to ask you to find a new school."

"What?" Virgil's shock was obvious. "When I went back she kept saying she'd do anything to help me. How is kicking me out going to help?"

"She's not going to kick you out because you're going to do as she says," Jeff stated firmly.

"But I don't want to talk about it!" They both knew that what he really meant was, "_I don't want to talk to someone I don't know"_.

"Virgil, you don't have a choice. Not unless you want to find a new school."

The look of panic on his son's face pained him and he reached out a hand to Virgil's shoulder.

"Son, you have to learn how to deal with the outside world again. When was the last time you went out?"

"I went shopping with Grandma this afternoon."

"And that's the most exciting thing you can think of to do? You don't even go round to your friends' houses anymore."

"You don't want me to go out alone," Virgil pointed out.

"No, but I thought you might have asked. " He hesitated then decided he might as well have it out. Virgil had suffered another panic attack just a couple of days ago. "Grandma told me what happened with Gordon the other day."

Virgil's face flushed. "Gordon's just a stupid kid."

Jeff raised an eyebrow and Virgil sighed.

"He wanted to go across the fields. Scott and John weren't around so I told him he'd have to wait. You know what he's like. He kept on and on at me to take him. Then he started running off. I went after him but..." his voice trailed off.

Jeff waited for him to finish.

"He kept running. I shouted at him to come back but he wouldn't. And I got to the gate and I – I couldn't go any further. I wanted to go after him but I couldn't. And I could see him in the distance pulling faces and waving at me like he didn't have a care in the world and I was scared, Dad, really scared. I kept thinking what if there's someone out there who wants to take him. And I tried to go after him. But I couldn't. And I kept thinking that any minute now someone was going to grab him. That _they'd_ be there waiting for him. I should have gone after him. He's my little brother and I should have been looking after him. I shouldn't have been too scared to go after him." Virgil was shaking now and Jeff put an arm around him.

Virgil thought back to that day. He'd wanted to go after Gordon, to drag him back to home and safety, but he just hadn't been able to make his feet move beyond the gate. He'd just stood there shaking, screaming at Gordon to come back, until his brother had finally given up the game and come sullenly back. Virgil couldn't remember what happened next with any clarity, but the next thing he knew they were back at the house, he was yelling and Gordon was crying hysterically. Scott had come running up and had started yelling himself, grabbing hold of Virgil and prising his fingers away from Gordon's wrist. Virgil had looked down in horror, seeing the bruises already forming next to the bloody crescents left by his nails. The next few hours were a blur of tears and guilt. Gordon still wasn't speaking to him and Virgil didn't really blame him.

"Virgil?" his father's voice nudged him back to reality.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt him," he said, his voice quiet.

"Okay, okay, it's alright, I know you couldn't help it," Jeff soothed as his son's tears started to fall. "Gordon shouldn't have run off. He should have known not to upset you. "

"That's not the point. Dad, maybe I should see someone like Mrs Bourne said. I'm so tired of feeling like this. I don't want to hurt anyone else. I just want things to be the way they used to be."

"I know, son. It'll be alright. I'll speak to Dr Cole tomorrow and see if he can recommend someone." He hugged his son again, grateful beyond belief that he could still do so.

Later that evening, when all the boys were in bed and the house was quiet, Jeff picked up Virgil's sketchbook which he'd left lying on the sofa. Flicking through it, he was relieved to find no disturbing images of the kidnapping, or anything else to cause him concern. He was glad that Virgil was sketching again, though, as he remembered an incident which had taken place just a couple of weeks after the kidnapping. John had told him that Virgil hadn't drawn or painted anything since his frenetic spate of pictures the day of Mike Donovan's funeral. When he'd asked, Virgil had made some vague comment about running out of materials, so Jeff had suggested that he and Virgil go into town to pick up some art supplies. He'd put Virgil's lack of enthusiasm down to his general reluctance to face strangers, all of whom he seemed to see as a threat, and it became clear as they walked towards the store that Virgil was becoming more and more unsettled. Catching comments from the people around them as they walked, he could understand why.

"That's the boy who was on the news... See, over there..."

"Twenty five million dollars I heard..."

Virgil had never liked being the centre of attention and he shrank closer to his father. By the time they reached their destination he was rigid with tension.

"Come on, then," Jeff said, holding the door open for him. Virgil didn't move, he just shook his head.

"Son?" Jeff asked in concern, having expected Virgil to willingly accept the refuge of the store.

"I don't want to," Virgil whispered. "If it hadn't been for that painting competition I wouldn't have been there for them to take. I don't want to draw again."

That was a new one, Jeff thought. It seemed that as fast as he could allay one fear or anxiety another one would take its place. Nearby was a bench and he led his son across to it and sat down beside him.

"Virgil, they were planning this before they knew about the art convention. They would have done the same thing wherever you were. Don't give up on your art just because of those people." He still couldn't bring himself to say the name _Redman_. "Don't let them win."

Virgil looked at him, not entirely convinced. "But they wouldn't have come all the way to Kansas."

"No, but you know that I would have brought you to New York even if you hadn't won that competition, don't you? I wanted to spend some time with you for your birthday. Of course, I also thought that separating you and Scott for a while might put a stop to all the arguing and give your grandma some peace."

Virgil managed a half-smile. "We don't argue now."

"No, though I'd willingly have put up with all the fighting if it would have spared you this. Come on, let's get those paints."

They got the art materials. They also made a stop at the music store where Jeff bought a new keyboard for Virgil who was unable to do much on the piano because of his injured wrist. A few gifts for the other boys and a bunch of flowers for Grandma completed the shopping trip and it was a happier Virgil who returned home.

Setting down the sketchpad, Jeff glanced at the clock and decided it was time to turn in himself. Checking on his boys he was relieved to find Virgil sleeping peacefully. John was still awake, though and he chatted with his son for a few moments.

"Night, Dad," said John, turning out the lamp. "Sleep well."

"I'll try," Jeff said, knowing what his son meant. Virgil wasn't the only one who was reliving the kidnapping in his dreams.

* * *

_The Highwayman _by Alfred Noyes – great poem!


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one or set up an alert – I was really thrilled with the response. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story just as much. Bee_

Chapter Two

Settling down to sleep, John wondered if his father would wake him again that night. He sighed as he considered the effect that the kidnapping had had on all of them. His thoughts drifted back to that horribly unsettled time after Virgil's return, unaware that in the room next to his, his father's thoughts were running along exactly the same lines...

_Six weeks earlier_

It was rare that the house was empty. Usually Grandma was around or at least one brother would be somewhere near. That Tuesday afternoon a month after Virgil's return was John's first opportunity to do something he'd been planning for days. He had been desperately worried about Virgil when he was missing and he was just as worried about his brother now that he was back at home. It hadn't surprised him that Virgil was finding it difficult to deal with what had happened to him – John had done plenty of research on post-traumatic stress before Virgil's return from the hospital. Whilst Scott had been hopeful that a few days back at home would cure him of his anxieties, John knew that it was likely to be a much more difficult journey for his brother. Despite his concern he'd watched in fascination as the rest of the family had tried to adjust to the change in Virgil. Both Gordon and Alan had been shaken by Virgil's mood swings, quickly learning to keep their distance, watching him suspiciously, waiting to see what kind of mood he was in before speaking to him. Scott was bending over backwards to help of course, giving Virgil all his attention, something the younger boy had craved ever since Scott had discovered girls at the expense of his brothers. John had tried to be supportive, but Virgil was withdrawn and quiet and he really didn't know what to say.

But it was his father's reaction which really intrigued John - and concerned him. Jeff was home a lot more now, but he'd become a lot more protective of all his boys and John and Scott particularly were beginning to feel smothered. The freedom they'd had before was lost and when John had challenged his father about it one night, having been given what he considered a ridiculously early curfew, Jeff's furious loss of temper had surprised him. His father was always strict but usually fair. He started to wonder just what his father had been through in those awful days when Virgil was lost. Well, he knew there was one way to find out, having got a quick glance of something on his father's computer screen when he'd gone into his study a few days ago. Jeff had quickly shut down the screen, but John knew that what was there would answer all his questions, if he could only get a look. He was just waiting for his chance and now he had it.

John had long ago hacked into the files of his father and Scott, just to prove he could. Their passwords were easy to guess, though in Scott's case they changed every so often as new girlfriends replaced old. Reading Scott's email and messages had been an education in itself, and John had already stored up a lifetime's worth of blackmail material should he ever need it. The only person whose password he hadn't guessed yet was Virgil's. Even before the kidnapping Virgil had been a more complex soul than his father and brothers, and art and music held many possibilities. John knew he would have cracked it eventually, but he felt that to try now, after all Virgil had been through, would be a betrayal of his brother.

Sneaking the spare key to his father's study away from his grandmother had been easy and now he let himself in, locking the door behind him. He rarely came in here – none of the boys did unless they had to. Unlike the rest of the house with its warm, relaxed atmosphere, the study was cool and formal. It was his father's domain, a place to which you were summoned, not a place you casually dropped into just for a chat. Here Jeff Tracy stopped being 'dad' and became 'father' - or, in times of real crisis, 'sir'.

Heading to his father's computer John switched it on and logged in. Typing in _Mercury7_ he proceeded to scroll through the files until he came to the one titled _Redman_. Hesitating only for a moment he clicked on it and began to read. His father 's lawyers had sent him all the evidence which was to be put to the judge before he sentenced the three kidnappers. John trawled through the information, most of which he was familiar with, even though the details had been sketchy. However it was the pictures which made him gasp with horror. The image of Virgil lying unconscious in the cellar, bound, gagged and – as John knew – drugged, upset him more than he would have thought possible. When he then opened the files containing the pictures of Virgil's bruised body taken at the hospital and read the accompanying doctor's report he had to make a conscious effort to remind himself that it was all in the past and that physically at least, Virgil was healed. Finally he found what he'd been looking for – an audio file_. _He'd heard Virgil speak briefly about being forced to make a tape recording to convince his father that he was alive and in the hands of the kidnappers, but Virgil had been particularly reticent and when Gordon had tried to ask him what he'd said, it was Scott who'd quickly moved the conversation along. When John had spoken to his oldest brother later Scott had been evasive but had admitted that Virgil had broken down when he'd answered the FBI agent's questions about it. He knew it had to be bad. Making sure the volume control was turned down low he opened the file.

At first all he could hear were muffled gasps and sobs. Eventually a man muttered something unintelligible, though his threatening tone was obvious, then Virgil had begun to talk. Actually it was more panicked ramble than coherent speech. John grew cold as he realised the depths of his brother's terror. No wonder Virgil was so traumatised. There was something about a knife and a gun. Mike was mentioned a few times, but mostly Virgil just begged his father to help him, to rescue him from this torment. John had to stop halfway through and just sat there, shivering. The absolute terror in Virgil's voice shocked him and his hatred for his captors grew even stronger. Bracing himself, he hit the play icon once more and let the file play on, pity for Virgil increasing as he began to realised that even his darkest imaginings hadn't begun to do justice to the torment his brother had experienced. When Virgil could finally put no more words together – or at least none that made any sense – and all that remained were terrified sobs and frantic gasps for breath, it was finally over. John sat there for a long time, suddenly appreciating exactly what his brother had been through. He'd imagined all sorts of terrible things – and been relieved to find that most of them hadn't happened - but he still hadn't been able to appreciate just how utterly terrified Virgil must have been. And if it was hard to listen to the tape now, knowing that Virgil was safely back with them, what must it have been like for his father hearing it the first time, knowing that Virgil was still in the hands of these people?

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His father's furious voice shocked him back to reality and he realised that Jeff was standing beside him looking at the computer screen which still held an image of Virgil's battered body. For once John was lost for words. His father reached across and shut down the file.

"What were you doing?" he asked again, his voice cold and harsh.

John found his voice. "Dad, I – I had to know what really happened to him, why he's changed so much. I just wanted to know what really happened so I could understand it better, so I could help him."

Jeff looked at him for a long moment. "So, you know it all. And how do you feel now?"

"That tape..." John faltered. "Now I've heard that I don't think I've got any way of helping him. Dad, I'm so sorry. I'm worried about Virgil. But you – hearing that..." Jeff thought that he'd never heard his second son less coherent. Pushing aside his anger for a moment – though there would be sharp words and heavy punishments in due course – he put an arm around his son. John didn't pull away.

"No wonder he has nightmares. No wonder you do too."

Jeff started. No one knew about his own nightmares as far as he was aware. He'd assumed they'd attributed his nightly visits to Virgil's room to his desire to check his son was okay, rather than his need to quell his own demons.

"What makes you think I have nightmares?" He couldn't admit to any weakness, of course.

"My room's next to yours, remember. I hear you yelling for Virgil. Then you get up and go to check on him, like you need to make sure he's still there." John wasn't naive. He'd been well aware of the likely effects of the trauma on his brother, who after all, was just a kid. It was his father's reaction which disturbed him. Even though he had stopped seeing him as the infallible, all-powerful being of his childhood, he was still shaken at the thought that his father, who rarely showed any emotion, could be affected so badly.

"Oh," Jeff said quietly. "Well, that tape might just give _you_ a few nightmares tonight, son. "

"Yeah." He was silent for a moment. "Sorry, Dad."

"You know I'll be changing my password, don't you?" Jeff said as he ushered his son from the room.

_You know that won't stop me,_ John thought. His father knew it too. Jeff sighed. Virgil might be taking most of his attention right now, but, as much as he loved them, he knew his other boys were just troubles waiting to happen. He was a little embarrassed at John's awareness of what he saw as a weakness – he hadn't realised he'd been calling Virgil's name as he relived those terrible few days in his dreams.

The nightmare was always the same. He was in the helicopter high above the road watching the little yellow car bounce and swerve along the rough track. Everything was magnified in his dream: the motion of the aircraft, the throb of the rotating blades, the oppressive heat of the summer's day. Colours were more vivid, the sunlight brighter. He kept his eyes focused on the car which held his son, scared to even blink in case it should somehow disappear. As it approached a bend in the road he felt his tension increase, knowing that beyond the bend was a roadblock. There would be no escape and in just a few minutes he would know Virgil's fate.

As the car took the bend too fast and skidded sideways he caught his breath, then there was a moment of sheer panic as he watched the car slam into the police cars. Even though he'd been too high up to hear much of the sound of the impact, in his dream he was almost deafened by the squeal of brakes, the sound of solid metal screeching as it crumpled and the shouts of those in the car and of the police who'd had to jump to safety. In his dream there was also the sound of Virgil screaming in fear and pain – impossible, as he'd been unconscious at the time of the crash. But dreams, especially nightmares, weren't logical or realistic and he would hear his son's cries grow fainter and fainter until there was an ominous silence.

Then he was out of the helicopter and running towards the car. Luke and Dan Redman assumed the guise of monsters in his nightmare, evil caricatures of their true selves. The fury he felt towards them overwhelmed him and he would twist in his sleep, his hands clenching into fists. But he never got the opportunity to take out his anger. He kept on running, heading for the trunk where Virgil was trapped. The sun seemed to beat down even more strongly and his panic increased beyond measure as he imagined his son slowly suffocating. It seemed to take forever for the police to break in, but finally the lock was forced and the trunk flew open. He rushed forward and saw ... nothing. The trunk was always empty. Virgil was gone, lost forever.

He would wake at that point, sweating and shaking, seized with a sense of loss and emptiness he hadn't felt since Lucy died. It always took a few moments to recover, to realise that it was only a nightmare and that Virgil really had been there in the trunk; that he'd made it safely back home. But he always needed to check for himself, getting out of bed and padding quietly, barefoot, to his son's room. Sometimes, he'd find Virgil in the grip of his own nightmares. Gently waking him, he would stay with him until he fell back to sleep. Then he would return to his own room, stopping to check on his other boys, relieved that none of them had awakened, that none of them had realised that their father was almost as traumatised as their brother.

He should have known that John would be the one to find him out, he thought wryly. He was just glad it wasn't Scott – he'd have found it difficult to accept appearing less than perfect in the eyes of his eldest son. Suddenly he realised that he was being stupid – he'd been through a terrible ordeal himself, it was bound to affect him. Jeff buried his head in his hands as he wondered what he could choose for a new password. He glanced back at the computer, wondering again why he didn't just delete the file. After all, he had never looked at it since he'd first received it from his lawyers. He'd do it when the Redmans were safely sentenced and locked away, he thought. When Virgil was fully recovered and when he himself could sleep peacefully through the night. Only then would this finally be over.

_This stor_y _isn't going to be a retelling of 'High Price' – I just wanted to develop John and Jeff's reactions a bit more before moving on._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone for the reviews – I really appreciate the support. Bee_

Chapter Three

Jeff had taken some serious advice on the matter of the counsellor. He didn't want just anyone handling Virgil's case and he'd finally been able to find someone who came highly recommended, but who was, as a result, exceptionally in demand. Only his best negotiating skills and the promise of a hefty donation to a local hospital had enabled him to get Virgil onto Antonia Carlisle's client list, though the only appointment she could offer him was at six o'clock on a Friday evening.

Jeff couldn't help smiling at the expression on Virgil's face when they arrived at the counsellor's office. Despite being the most placid of his sons - at least until all this had happened - he had the most disturbing scowl. Even Scott's formidable expression of disapproval had nothing on his brother's when Virgil decided he was really unhappy about something. Despite agreeing to the idea of counselling at first, Virgil had become more and more apprehensive as the date of the first session approached. He'd worked himself up into a panic that morning and had been protesting that he wasn't going to go ever since he came home from school – sent home early, actually, for threatening to punch James McCauley again. Jeff had kept reminding him of the consequences if he didn't go. Mrs Bourne had made it quite clear when she'd called him to collect Virgil that it was only the fact that he was to see the counsellor that evening which was keeping her from suspending him for another week. It had been a long, frustrating afternoon for both father and son, and it was one very sulky – and scared - twelve year old who now sat in front of Antonia Carlisle's desk, staring fixedly at the carpet.

Virgil just wanted to run away. If it hadn't been for his fear of being out alone he probably would have. It hadn't helped that he'd been put into the school counsellor's office to cool off and wait for his father to collect him. Staring around at the various posters giving advice about self-harm, drink and drugs, he'd thought they were more likely to give people ideas than to help them. They had just depressed him even more. At least Antonia's office wasn't like Mr Bennett's – it was clean and bright and there were no posters, just some fairly bland pictures and her professional qualifications in frames behind her desk. The woman herself hadn't been what he'd expected either. With her short dark hair and bright green eyes she looked like one of his father's secretaries from the early days of Tracy Industries. All the boys had adored her because she kept a supply of chocolate in her desk which she was always willing to share. Even so, he still wasn't ready to bare his soul to her. He didn't want to talk to her at all.

"So, Virgil," Antonia said. "I understand you've been having some trouble dealing with the things that happened to you in the summer."

Virgil said nothing, obviously hoping that if he played dumb she'd give up. She looked across at Jeff who shrugged apologetically. He'd already talked at length to her over the phone and she was fully aware of Virgil's feelings. She smiled at him reassuringly, then turned back to Virgil.

"You know, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. But I think I can help you cope with the problems you're having getting back to normal. I understand you've been getting into fights at school."

Virgil flashed her a look of sullen contempt.

"Dad always said counsellors were a waste of time. I don't know why he's so keen for me to see you."

_Oh, thank you, Virgil_! Jeff felt himself going red.

"Uh, well, that is..." He trailed off with a weak smile and had to resist the temptation to bury his head in his hands.

"That's alright, Mr Tracy," she smiled, perfectly composed. "A lot of people feel that way ... particularly men. But, you know, Virgil, there might be some things I can teach you to help you control your temper. Punching someone might make you feel better initially but it's not going to help in the long run."

"I can already take a deep breath and count to ten." Virgil wasn't going to be convinced that easily.

"I'm sure you can, but there's a bit more to it than that. Why don't we ask your father to wait outside and we can get started."

Virgil shot his father an anxious glance. This woman didn't look threatening – she just looked ... normal. But he still didn't want to be left alone with her and he certainly didn't want to talk about the kidnapping – he was trying to bury the memories, not relive them. His father put a calming hand on his shoulder as he rose.

"I'll be right outside. Remember, you have to do this unless you want to find a new school."

Despite the worry he felt for his son, Jeff almost let out a laugh as Virgil, obviously resorting to desperate measures, suddenly replaced the scowl with a heart-rending look of wide-eyed appeal, complete with trembling bottom lip. That might have worked when he was five, it might even have worked on Grandma now, given her concern for her grandson, but Jeff was having none of it. "Behave yourself," he warned, heading for the door.

Perhaps if counselling helped Virgil he should consider it himself he thought as he took a seat in the reception, then laughed, knowing he'd never be able to express his feelings to anyone else. Virgil might, in time, he thought. His artistic son was far more sensitive and emotional than his brothers or his father. If this woman could gain his trust she might be some use in helping him.

Back in the office, Antonia sat back, studying the boy in front of her. Virgil steadfastly refused to look at her. The minutes ticked by and he stared at the ceiling, humming a tune he'd made up a few days before. Still she said nothing and he glanced across at the clock, his heart sinking when he saw he had another forty minutes to kill before he could get away.

Time went by and neither Antonia nor Virgil said anything. She was quite impressed with the time it was taking for Virgil to crack. Most kids would have been letting it all out long before now, driven crazy by the silence and inactivity. She continued to watch him thoughtfully. The minutes ticked by until finally the hour was nearly up.

"Well, done, Virgil," she said, rising from her chair. "That's a good start."

Virgil looked at her in some confusion. "Nothing happened."

"Really?"

"You didn't do anything. Don't pretend you did. Just because my Dad's rich doesn't mean he'll pay you for just sitting there."

"It's not what I did, it's what you did."

"What did I do?" he asked suspiciously, sure he'd done nothing.

"You spent nearly an hour alone with a stranger in a place where you were obviously uncomfortable. You kept yourself calm by humming that tune. It was lovely by the way, what is it?"

"Just something I made up," Virgil said, not really interested in her opinion. "But Dad was outside. You weren't going to do anything to me."

"Of course not. Why would I want to?" Before he could answer she continued, "Virgil, how many people have you met in your life?"

"How would I know? That's a stupid question. Hundreds, if you count everyone in school. I don't know."

"And how many of those people have hurt you? I mean, _really_ hurt you?"

He looked at her for a moment. "Three," he whispered.

"So, most of the people you've met have been nice to you or at least had no effect on you at all. That's pretty good don't you think? Virgil, you've had a terrible experience and it's going to take time for you to get over it. But I can help you if you let me. I can't change what happened, but I can make it easier for you to get on with your life. You don't even have to tell me about the kidnapping if you don't want to. It's entirely up to you. Just give it a go. What have you got to lose? If nothing else you can spend an hour thinking up some more nice tunes. You're very talented, you know."

Virgil didn't know what to say. He'd expected an hour of questions, of being forced to relive everything that had happened. She was right, he'd spent an hour in a strange place with someone he didn't know and he hadn't run screaming for his father. He sighed. It was hard to be hostile towards someone who was so passive.

"Will I see you next week?" she asked.

"I suppose so." But he wasn't going to make it easy. "I'll bring my sketchpad next time, though. I need my keyboard to compose anything."

"You do that," she smiled, opening the door. "I hear you're just as talented an artist as you are a musician. You're lucky to have those things to help you cope."

Jeff got to his feet, putting aside the report he'd been reading. He was relieved to see that Virgil seemed calm.

"How'd it go?"

"Slowly, but Virgil has agreed to keep seeing me." Antonia told him. "Same time next week, Virgil?"

"Okay," Virgil said with a resigned shrug.

It was a start.

True to her word Antonia didn't force him to talk about the kidnapping. Instead, for the next few weeks they discussed art and music and worked on techniques Virgil could use to calm himself if he started to panic or get angry. There were no more fights in school, though he'd come close once or twice, mainly with James McCauley and his friends. But once they'd realised that their teasing was having no effect they'd backed off and Virgil was beginning to feel more in control. He'd even started to open up a little about what had happened to him, though Antonia knew there was still a lot he wasn't telling her.

Virgil had become quite enthusiastic about his counselling sessions, admitting to his father that it was a relief to feel he was finally doing something to help himself. Jeff was delighted, especially when the nightmares began to occur less frequently. He began to relax more himself, bringing his focus back onto his work and even flying out to Japan on a business trip he'd been putting off for weeks, though he called home frequently – he kept imagining terrible things happening to all his boys, not just Virgil, and needed regular reassurance that they were all okay.

His own uncharacteristic behaviour worried him – he'd always had iron self-control and he'd learned to bury his feelings after his wife's death, seeing overt displays of emotion, however justified, as something to be ashamed of. He'd encouraged his sons to be equally reserved in displaying their feelings, especially as they got older. If someone had told him a few months ago that he'd be behaving like this, he'd have laughed. But the kidnapping had changed all that. He couldn't bear to see his son so hurt. He wanted Virgil to get back to his old confident self, but the thought of his son out by himself still terrified him and, if he was honest, he was relieved that Virgil still didn't want to go out alone, though he knew it wasn't a healthy state of affairs. He surprised himself – he'd always pushed his sons to an early independence, now he wondered if, despite his misgivings, he should force Virgil into the outside world. He couldn't do it though – it was going to be hard enough giving Scott and John their freedom back – and Heaven knew how old Gordon and Alan would be before they were allowed out alone. Every time he spoke to Antonia he thought about discussing his feelings, but he could never bring himself to do it.

Returning from Japan, Jeff headed to Kansas for the weekend. On Sunday evening he retreated to his office to prepare for his return to New York the next day. Deeply engrossed in paperwork, he was startled by the ring of the telephone. Frowning in annoyance, he glanced at the caller ID, fully intending to let it go to voicemail. But the sight of a name he'd never expected to see again caused him to snatch at the phone anxiously.

"Tracy," he snapped, unable to keep the tension out of his voice.

"Jeff, Rex Adams here. I've got some news for you..."

Jeff replaced the telephone and sat in thought for a moment. Then he left his desk and went out into the hallway. Alan was just coming down the stairs and Jeff asked him if he'd seen Virgil.

"Yeah, he went outside with Scott and John."

"Outside?" Jeff asked in surprise. It was cold and he really didn't see any attraction in being outside. Pulling on a jacket and hat, he stepped through the door, feeling the chill hit him straight away. Approaching his three sons he finally understood the appeal of the outdoors as he listened to John pointing out the various stars in the clear sky.

"Boys," Jeff said, sitting on a chair next to Virgil, casting an appraising look at his middle son.

"Hey, Dad," Scott replied. "What's up?"

"I've just had a call from Agent Adams at the FBI." He registered the anxious look which came over Virgil's face as he continued. "Virgil, it's Luke Redman. He's-"

Virgil's head shot up and a look of panic flashed into his eyes. He jumped up, knocking over his chair. "He's escaped, hasn't he? He's coming here."

Scott caught hold of him as Jeff jumped to his feet. He hadn't expected that reaction and he wondered again about what was going on in his son's head. He moved quickly to calm his son.

"No, Virgil, no, it's okay. He hasn't escaped. And he won't be coming after you. Not ever. Son - he's dead. He got into a fight with some of the other prisoners. They hit him so hard that he never got back up."

Virgil stared blankly at him. "Oh," he said finally, his voice expressionless.

Ignoring Scott and John's delighted exclamations and high fives at the news, Jeff reached out to Virgil.

"Virgil, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Virgil said in the same flat tone. He shrugged off his father's hand and turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Scott asked, finally registering Virgil's response – or lack of one. He got no reply and Virgil trudged steadily back towards the house. Scott, John and Jeff looked at each other in some surprise.

"I'd have expected more of a reaction than that," Jeff said.

"It's good news, though," John said. "Just what the bastard deserved." He half expected a reprimand from his father but Jeff just nodded, a grim expression on his face as he recalled the part Luke had played in Virgil's ordeal. If he was honest with himself, he too was glad that the man who had terrified his son with a knife, drugged him and beaten him, had paid the ultimate price.

"We'd better go and see how he's doing," Scott suggested.

They walked back to the house together, unsurprised when their ears picked up the notes of the piano as they drew nearer. Music had always been a coping mechanism for Virgil, now more than ever, and his mood could be gauged from his choice of tune. They'd expected something angry or even joyful, but the plaintive, haunting melody suggested deep sadness and regret.

"Well, there's his reaction," Scott said, as the notes faded. There was a moment's silence before the tune started up again.

"Nightmares tonight, do you think?" John asked.

"More than likely," Jeff agreed. "Either that or he'll sleep better than he's done for a long time."

"I didn't realise he thought they might come after him again," Scott said thoughtfully.

"I don't think he did," Jeff told him, "I think it was just the shock of hearing that man's name."

"Well we won't be hearing it again," Scott said with satisfaction.

That wasn't true of course, the press would quickly pick up on the story and Jeff braced himself for a flurry of phone calls from journalists all looking for a response. He quickly drafted a statement and recorded a new voicemail message directing callers to his lawyer. Then he took the phone off the hook.

On his way to bed later that night he checked on his boys as usual. Gordon and Alan were fast asleep and Scott and John were almost there. He left Virgil until last. He hadn't wanted to talk about Luke Redman's death and Jeff hadn't pushed him. The boy had played the piano for a long time, then abruptly jumped up and gone to bed, refusing Grandma's offer of hot chocolate, saying he was too tired. He'd brushed off his father and brothers' concerns and headed upstairs. Scott had wanted to go after him, but Jeff told him to leave his brother alone.

"Let him deal with it his own way, Scott. He knows we're here if he needs us."

When he'd checked on Virgil earlier his son was sleeping peacefully. This time, however, he wasn't particularly surprised to see a dim light shining under the door. Opening it quietly he saw Virgil fast asleep at his keyboard, his head resting on his arm, the earphones which allowed him to play without disturbing anyone else pushed awkwardly out of place. He managed to remove the earphones without waking Virgil, but was less successful when he tried to pick his son up.

"Dad?" Virgil said, sleepily.

"Hi, Virgil. Sorry I woke you. Isn't it a bit late to be practising?"

"Guess so," Virgil said, not bothering to explain that he was seeking refuge in his music - his father would know that anyway. He pushed Jeff away and walked over to the bed. Jeff watched him as he settled against the pillows.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine. I just want to sleep. "

Still Jeff hovered uncertainly. The way Virgil lay staring at the ceiling suggested that his mind was still full of thoughts of Luke and he desperately wanted to comfort him. It wasn't fair that his son had to deal with all of this.

"Virgil, are you sure you're okay?"

"Dad, I told you, I'm fine. Go to bed."

"You know the others are safely in prison, don't you?"

"Yes." The frustration showed on Virgil's face. Jeff knew he wanted to be left alone, but he just couldn't do it.

"It's okay to be glad he's gone, you know, after what he did to you."

Virgil turned to look at him with a sudden flash of anger in his eyes.

"I'm not glad! Why would I be glad someone else is dead? Or that two other people are stuck in jail? It doesn't change anything. The whole thing was pointless, wasn't it? All of it for nothing."

Before Jeff could reply Virgil had turned his back on him. "Dad, go away. I just want to be left alone."

Jeff looked at him for a moment, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to upset him even more.

"Well, if you're sure."

"_Yes!_" This time the frustration was clearly evident and Jeff patted his shoulder then did as his son asked.

"Goodnight, son. If you need me you know where I am."

"Yeah. Night." He pulled the covers over his head, the barrier an obvious sign to his father that he didn't want him around.

Jeff didn't even bother trying to go to sleep. He wandered back and forth to Virgil's room until he heard a cry. Opening the door he saw Virgil in the grip of another nightmare. This time, from the fragments of speech he could decipher, Virgil seemed to be remembering Mike Donovan's murder. Quickly shaking him awake, Jeff knelt down beside the bed. He was a little surprised that Virgil seemed to be focusing on this event which was down to Dan Redman, rather than the cruelties inflicted on him by Luke.

"Virgil?" he whispered gently, as his son's eyes focused on him. "It's okay."

Virgil was usually somewhat dazed and incoherent when woken from a nightmare. Tonight, his quick, angry reaction startled Jeff.

"It's not okay! It's never going to be okay."

"Virgil?"

"If one of them was going to die... it should have been the other one."

"What?"

"It wasn't... Luke." It was the first time Virgil had said the name of one of his captors. "He wasn't the one I was most scared of."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't dream about him or what he did to me. That doesn't matter, not really. I dream about what happened to Mike. I came home, Dad. However hard it was, however bad I feel now, I'm still the lucky one. I'm back home with all of you. Mike died. He never got back. The other one – he was the one who scared me. He killed Mike and I know he would have killed me, just left me there to starve in that cellar. I can still see him smiling when he said that. I think he'd have liked to do it."

Every time Jeff thought he'd come to terms with what happened, something would happen to bring it all back. Like Scott, he'd put Luke at the top of his hate list for all he'd done to Virgil, but now he realised that it was Dan who was responsible for most of Virgil's distress. Jeff's promises that Dan was safely in prison were no comfort to his son. All he could do was hold Virgil whilst he cried and hope that this outburst would be the catalyst for him to finally let it all out to Antonia.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - all comments are really appreciated. Whirlgirl - I can't reply to your reviews, so just wanted to say thanks for all the support._

Chapter Four

Until news of Luke Redman's death arrived, Virgil's sessions with Antonia had followed the same routine. The first few minutes would be taken up with general conversation, just to get him settled. Then he'd talk about school and how he was coping. Later, he might touch upon something connected with his experience in the summer, though he'd been reluctant to pursue this. This time however, it was different. For a start he'd missed most of that week in school, Jeff agreeing with Mrs Bourne that perhaps it was best to keep him at home, just in case someone said the wrong thing about Luke. The nightmares had been bad again and Jeff was worried about the setback to his son's recovery. After his outburst the night of Luke's death he'd refused to talk about it again, but he was obviously still troubled, clashing with Alan and Gordon – which was normal - but also with Scott and Grandma, which certainly wasn't.

He'd been quiet at the start of the session and Antonia had waited for him to speak. She could see that he was in turmoil, obviously wanting to talk about the kidnapping, but unsure whether he could bring himself to do so. Finally he had looked up at her with an expression of such anxiety that she'd had to fight the impulse to give him a hug. She simply smiled at him encouragingly.

"You know you can talk to me, don't you? Nothing you say here goes back to your family, Virgil. I only give your father a general report on your progress."

He nodded, looking down at the floor again, biting his lip nervously. _Come on, Virgil,_ she thought. _You're so close. Let it out._

Finally he looked at her and said tentatively,

"Can I tell you about it?"

Hiding her feeling of triumph at the breakthrough she simply nodded.

"Whenever you're ready, Virgil."

Then he'd talked, working his way through every moment of his ordeal. To his surprise he hadn't broken down or got angry, he'd just been able to explain quite objectively what he'd gone through, only faltering when he confessed to the guilt he felt over Mike's death and the humiliation he'd experienced after recording the tape. When he'd come to a stop after explaining how he'd woken up in hospital, safely back with his father, he could tell Antonia thought he'd finished. He'd been silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the floor, wondering whether to tell her the rest. She'd just been about to say something when he'd looked up at her and come to his decision. He started off again, his voice little more than a whisper this time, recounting those dark feelings of resentment towards his father which he hadn't even been able to discuss with Scott. When he'd finished he felt exhausted but relieved, almost cleansed, as if a splinter had been drawn from deep inside.

Antonia finally understood just why he'd been so reluctant to talk. It certainly gave her plenty to work on over the coming weeks.

And work they did. Now that she'd gained his trust Antonia began to talk through all Virgil's anxieties. Whilst she mainly focused on helping him cope with his fear of strangers and of going out on his own, she touched on his relationship with his father whenever Virgil was willing to discuss it. As she'd expected, he'd been evasive in later sessions, feeling guilty about his comments, obviously seeing them as some sort of betrayal or criticism of his father. She didn't push it, leaving it to him to bring the matter up again.

"Dad's different now," he said during one session.

"In what way?"

"Afterwards... everyone else reacted like I'd expected them to. Grandma fussed all the time, Scott wanted to hurt anyone who hurt me, John was fascinated – he always wants to know what we talk about here. I don't tell him, though. Gordon and Alan still don't really get it.

"But Dad ... he's always been tough, you know. He never showed his feelings and he expected us to be the same. If one of us got upset he'd just tell us to stop complaining and get on with it – we'd end up going to Grandma instead if we needed a hug. But now... he's all emotional himself. He even cried at the hospital. It was kind of nice at the time because it proved he cared, but it was scary as well. He's turned into Grandma, always fussing – with me anyway.

"It's just confusing – he wanted me to be more grown up before it happened and now he treats me like a baby again. I was glad at first – I just wanted to hide away in the house where it was safe, where no one was looking at me and talking about me. But I kept expecting him to tell me to pull myself together. But he didn't – he still hasn't. And he's always checking up on Scott and John. It's like he's scared of what might happen to us. And if Dad's scared... well, it has to be dangerous out there, doesn't it? That's why I'm afraid to go out."

Antonia wished she could have a few sessions with Jeff Tracy. She was intrigued by the way his usual no-nonsense approach to life had been shaken by the kidnapping and his own uncharacteristic emotional reaction. She wondered if Jeff realised just how much Virgil's suspicion of the outside world was a reflection of his own fears. It was time for a discussion with Jeff, she thought.

"Is your dad picking you up tonight?" she asked.

Virgil looked panic-stricken. "You're not going to tell him what I said, are you?" he asked.

"Of course not. But I think he needs some help in helping you. Would you mind if I had a chat with him?"

Virgil couldn't exactly say no. He wanted to get on with his life and he knew the issue had to be faced. But the thought of his father knowing what he'd said about him...

"He won't admit he cried," he said finally.

"I wouldn't expect him to. Don't worry, Virgil. I just want to give him some advice, okay?"

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

He was on edge for the rest of the session. When Antonia's secretary buzzed her to let her know that Jeff had arrived he had to fight back the urge to make a run for it, dragging his father with him.

"Why don't you wait outside and I'll call you in when we've finished," Antonia suggested. "And don't worry. I'm not going to tell him anything he doesn't already know."

A nervous Virgil left and a minute later an equally nervous Jeff appeared. As much as he appreciated Antonia for the help she was giving Virgil, he'd never felt at ease in her office.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. "I thought Virgil was doing well."

"He's doing brilliantly," she smiled. "You've said yourself that he's a lot happier now."

"Yes," Jeff relaxed a little. "He could teach the other four a few things about staying calm and keeping their tempers. He seems to have come to terms with what happened to him. Now if he could only find the nerve to go out alone, face strangers..."

"He wants to try. But it's going to be hard – for both of you."

Jeff looked at her suspiciously. The last thing he wanted was to talk about his own feelings.

"Well, it's bound to be difficult – I almost lost him in the summer. But it's not about my feelings, is it?"

"Actually, your feelings might be part of the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Virgil's picked up on your fears. He knows you're worried about him being out by himself so now he thinks there's really something to be worried about. He's seeing danger where there isn't any. He's become too reliant on you and the rest of his family."

Jeff stared at her, always defensive when he felt his parenting skills were being called into question.

"Are you saying it's my fault he won't go out? What should I do? Lock him out of the house? Take him somewhere and abandon him for a few hours?"

She looked at him steadily, not bothering to respond.

Finally Jeff sighed. He knew what she was saying made sense.

"I couldn't face anything else happening to him – or to any of my boys," he said quietly. "I know the odds are against it, but even so..."

"Virgil needs you to put those feelings aside – or at least to keep them hidden. He's a brave kid – he tried to escape, remember. Once he takes the first step he'll quickly get his confidence back. And you'll start to feel better too."

"I suppose so," Jeff admitted. "What should I do?"

"Start encouraging him to face strangers again. Take him to the movies, go to a baseball game. Don't give in if he tries to back out. When he's comfortable facing new people and places, then you can start encouraging him to do it alone. "

When Virgil was called back into the office he looked apprehensively at the two adults. Both were smiling, though his father looked thoughtful as he indicated the seat next to him.

"Ready to go out and face the world?" he asked.

Virgil nodded. "I think so."

"I think so too. And it's time I let you. How about a trip into town tomorrow? All of us?"

"Okay." For the first time in months Virgil sounded genuinely enthusiastic at the prospect of a day out.

The expedition to town was a great success. Virgil had been nervous but had coped well, though he'd become frustrated when Alan had offered to hold his hand and look after him. Scott and John had smiled at this, thinking that if anything was going to get Virgil to take those first few steps out alone, being shown up by his little brother might just do it. For Jeff however, it was just another indication of how his own fears were being picked up by his younger sons. He kept praising Virgil for his composure in the face of so many unknown people, promising him that in time he'd be able to face them alone.

As the next couple of weeks passed, Virgil ventured outside more often, going to the movies with Scott and joining in a school trip to the theatre. He was feeling proud of himself, no longer panicking or wondering if people were talking about him. Jeff was delighted to see Virgil becoming more confident. This in turn was helping him – his own nightmares were few and far between now and he was beginning to relax his tight controls on his eldest sons, much to Scott and John's relief.

Grandma sometimes wondered just what her life would have been like if she hadn't had to take charge of her grandsons. She sometimes dreamed of a quiet life where she could please herself, meeting friends for coffee or lunch on the spur of the moment, taking trips to those far-off places she'd always wanted to visit, or, most precious of all, just being able to enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of peace and quiet with no meals to prepare, no arguments to settle, no bruises or scrapes to fuss over. Instead she found herself with the day to day responsibility for five boys whilst their father worked away from home. Jeff did his best and was running himself ragged flying between New York and Kansas as often as he could, but Grandma felt the pressure the most. Not that she would change anything, of course.

This past couple of weeks had been hard. A nasty flu bug was working its way through the local schools and the boys had been taking it in turns to go down with it. Gordon had caught it first, then Alan, then John. As soon as one would recover and return to school, the next would fall sick. Now it was Virgil's turn. Only Scott remained fit and he was convinced that he'd get it next and so be forced to miss his new girlfriend's birthday the following Friday. Grandma really hoped he didn't catch it – she was worn out with looking after the others and Scott was a particularly uncooperative patient. At least the younger ones were content to lie on the couch, cosily wrapped up in a blanket, happy to be fussed over. That was where Virgil was now, dozing fitfully, thankfully over the worst of the sickness, but still tired and feverish.

Leaving the lounge she decided it was time to give the kitchen cupboards a good clearout. The cleaning materials she needed were stored in the cellar, but when she reached for the light switch nothing happened. She frowned in annoyance. The bulb was a nuisance to replace – whoever designed the house had obviously not expected anyone less than six feet tall to take responsibility for replacing it – the light hung at the very edge of the stairs and even Jeff had to reach for it when he changed the bulb, leaning precariously over the top stair. She would have to stand on a chair. She wondered whether to put off the cleaning until another day. Scott could easily change the bulb for her when he came home from school. But then what else could she do? Two weeks of being stuck in the house with various sick children had seen her clean every other inch of the house. It was the cupboards or nothing and she wasn't the kind of woman to sit around doing nothing. Nor was she the type to admit defeat!

Carrying over a chair from the kitchen table she debated whether to get Virgil to steady it for her, then decided to leave him to sleep. She found a new bulb then climbed onto the chair. It was quite a reach for her, but she managed to remove the old bulb easily enough. Fitting the new one was less easy and took several attempts. She couldn't quite seem to get it lined up straight and she swung further out, the chair shifting slightly. In her frustration she didn't realise just how close the leg was getting to the edge of the stairs. Determined to get the thing fitted, she kept trying, finally giving an exclamation of satisfaction as she slotted the bulb in and twisted it into place. She started to step down, only for the shift in her weight to finally edge the chair leg over the top step. She made a desperate grab for the light cable to try to save herself but she didn't stand a chance. Her fingers brushed against it but she couldn't catch hold and she felt herself start to fall.

Virgil awoke with a start. He wasn't sure why, but he immediately felt uneasy, wondering just what had woken him so suddenly. Everything seemed normal enough. Glancing up at the clock he realized it was time for another dose of medicine. Coughing a little as he got up, he wandered into the kitchen, fully expecting to find his grandmother there.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he got there. The cellar door was open, a sinister black hole marring the brightness of the kitchen. There was a sound too, coming from the cellar, something he couldn't quite place, halfway between a moan and a cry. He knew it was Grandma and fear shot through him. Hesitantly he made his way towards the door and called out hoarsely,

"Grandma?"

Grandma lay at the bottom of the stairs amongst the shattered remains of the chair. She'd landed hard, briefly losing consciousness. When she awoke she knew at once that she'd broken something – quite a few things by the feel of it. The pain of trying to move had caused her to pass out again for a moment and she forced herself to keep still. Help would come soon, she thought – Virgil would wake up and come looking for her. She tried to call out, hoping he'd hear, but all that came out was a pain-filled moan. But the relief she felt when she heard her grandson's voice was immense and as she slipped back into oblivion she knew help was on its way.

Virgil stood at the cellar door staring into the darkness. Grandma was down there and something was very wrong. He knew he should go down and investigate, but still he hesitated. He hadn't been down to the cellar since his return home. He hadn't wanted to awaken the memories of his capture, so he'd always managed to find some excuse when anyone asked him to fetch something, usually sending Alan, who found the cellar incredibly exciting, convinced that there was treasure buried down there somewhere. But Alan wasn't here – no one was, it was all down to him.

Shaking a little, he thought about all the things he'd learned about controlling his fears. It was hard. He knew his panic about the cellar was unfounded, but his fears for Grandma were very real. The moaning had stopped now and he knew the silence was bad. He reached out for the light switch and to his relief the cellar flooded with light. Stepping forward he looked down the stairs.

Any thoughts he might have had about his own fears vanished as he saw his grandmother lying brokenly at the foot of the stairs. He suddenly found himself running down to her, calling out for her at the top of his voice, ignoring the soreness of his throat. He knew enough not to move her, but he shook her shoulder gently. There was no response, but he could see she was breathing and that reassured him a little.

"Grandma, I'm going to call an ambulance," he whispered. "It's going to be alright."

The call took a few minutes then he ran back to his grandmother, stopping to pick up his blanket from the lounge, practical as always. Carefully covering her, he held her hand, pleading with her to wake up. Her painful moaning had been terrifying but the silence was worse. She didn't respond to his desperate calls and he became increasingly anxious, convinced that at any minute she'd simply give up and die. His voice had almost gone, the words now coming out in a barely audible whisper, but still he kept talking.

Even though he was waiting for it, the loud knock at the front door made him jump. Running back upstairs, he couldn't help but check through the window first, hating himself for doing it, but needing to reassure himself that it really was the paramedics, not some random stranger with evil intentions.

The next ten minutes were a blur as the paramedics brought their equipment and a stretcher and tended to Grandma. Virgil sat at the top of the stairs, trembling a little now with the shock. He should call his father, he thought, Scott too, but he didn't know what to say, so he waited until the paramedics could give him some more news. Finally the woman - Jess, according to her name badge, came up the stairs. She went to put a comforting hand on Virgil's shoulder and was a little surprised when he shied away.

"Okay, we're going to get your grandma to the hospital. She's broken a few bones and hurt her head, but she's going to be fine, I promise you. Is there someone we can call to look after you? You can't stay here by yourself."

Virgil stared at her. Grandma was going to be okay, that was good. But he'd assumed he could stay with her or at least stay in the house. Anyway, there wasn't anyone to look after him right now. His father was in New York, Scott and John were in school, and the neighbour who sometimes looked after the younger ones was away visiting her daughter.

"Can't I go with Grandma?" he asked. "There's no one who can come here. I can call my brother and get him to come to the hospital."

Jess looked at him. She was sure this was the boy who'd been all over the news the previous summer. The wary look in his eyes as he watched her suggested someone who wasn't too keen on strangers. She frowned. She really needed to get the woman to hospital quickly but she couldn't leave the boy on his own, so she nodded in agreement.

"Okay, but you call your brother before we go."

She turned back to her partner who was calling her to help manoeuvre the stretcher up the stairs.

Virgil called Scott, knowing that he would be in class and his phone would be turned off. Trying to think of a gentle way to break the news was beyond him and he ended up leaving a short message which he feared would panic his brother but which would at least have him dashing to the hospital as quickly as he could. He had the presence of mind to lock the house up before climbing into the ambulance with his grandmother, watching Jess anxiously as she worked.

When they arrived at the hospital Grandma was rushed off to the care of the doctors. Jess took Virgil to the waiting room. He walked in, suddenly filled with apprehension as he realised that for the first time since the kidnapping he was in a strange place all by himself.

"You stay here, okay. How long will your brother be?"

"Not long."

Virgil hoped not, anyway. Even though she'd been unconscious he'd felt safe beside his grandmother. The waiting room, quiet as it was on a Wednesday morning, filled him with terror. He sat down on one of the hard chairs close to the receptionist, thinking that this was probably the safest place. Jess looked at him in some concern.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've had a bit of a shock and you don't look very well."

"I'm alright. Just worried about Grandma." Virgil couldn't tell her what the problem really was, and anyway, it was Grandma who was in trouble, not him.

"Well she's being taken care of. You just tell Susie if you need anything." She indicated the receptionist before leaving him alone.

He called his father in New York, dreading his reaction but needing to hear his voice. Sure enough Jeff was panic-stricken at first, but, having assured himself that his mother was in good hands and that Scott would be with Virgil soon, he ended the call in order to get himself home as quickly as he could. A call to John to let him know what was going on and to make sure he collected Gordon and Alan from school followed, then Virgil had nothing but his thoughts to occupy himself.

He sat nervously, feeling tired and weak. His throat burned and he wished he'd thought to take some more medicine before he'd left the house. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but he was just too scared of what might happen if he let his guard down. Forcing himself to run through the various coping strategies he'd learned with Antonia, he tried to calm himself. He wasn't doing too badly until a young blood-stained man staggered in and collapsed right in front of him. Several medics rushed to help and the close proximity of so many people left him shaking. It was a relief when the man was taken away. He sat back once more, this time humming a song to calm himself. He wasn't at his most tuneful due to the flu and he got a few strange looks, but he didn't care. He forced himself to think of Grandma, not of his own problems. This didn't exactly comfort him – she'd looked so... _broken_, but it stopped him panicking. Gradually he began to feel a little more secure.

Scott didn't arrive for another hour and a half. He'd been too busy chatting to Ella, his girlfriend, to bother checking his phone between classes, so it was lunchtime before he'd picked up Virgil's message. He'd made a frantic dash for his car and broken every speed limit to get to the hospital, worrying not just about Grandma but about his brother too. Parking the car hurriedly he'd raced into the hospital and charged into the waiting room, scanning the rows of seats anxiously for Virgil. When he finally saw him sitting near the receptionist's desk, Scott could tell that the long wait hadn't been easy. Virgil's tension was obvious as he sat upright in the chair, his fists clenched nervously. He was pale, with dark smudges beneath his eyes and Scott felt a pang of guilt for leaving him here for so long. He could only guess at the stress his brother must be under, surrounded by strangers in a place which would surely bring back memories of his ordeal. He came to a breathless halt in front of his brother.

"Virgil? It's okay, I'm here."

He expected his brother to break down, but Virgil just breathed a sigh of relief and managed a smile.

"Hi, Scott. You took your time."

"Sorry. I didn't get your message straightaway. How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine. It's Grandma who's hurt."

"Yes, I know, but you've been here on your own for ages. Are you okay?" Scott was surprised by Virgil's composure.

"I'm fine, really." Virgil felt a little guilty when he realised that Scott was more worried about him than Grandma. He really did feel fine – well, apart from the headache and sore throat. But he knew that wasn't what Scott meant.

"Don't worry about me. I'm still here – no one tried to kidnap me and I didn't start panicking. Guess the counselling's working."

Despite his worry for Grandma he was quite proud of himself – he'd got help, dealt with people he didn't know and faced a strange environment all by himself. It was nice when Scott had – finally – turned up, but in some ways he was glad he'd had the chance to prove himself. It would have taken him months to do something like this if he hadn't been forced into it.

Scott relaxed a little, pleased to see that Virgil really was okay, then remembered why they were both there.

"Have they said anything about Grandma?"

"Not much. The doctor told me she broke her leg and they need to operate. But she got knocked out so they have to wait for her to wake up first. They think she'll be okay though. "

He told Scott all that had happened and the two of them continued to wait for news. It wasn't long before Virgil fell asleep, his head resting on Scott's shoulder. Scott didn't have the heart to move him, though he was more certain than ever that he was going to get this bug next, missing Ella's birthday. Then it struck him that even if Grandma wasn't kept in hospital for long, she'd be unable to drive or get around very well and he'd have to help out more with the boys. It looked as if his social life was going to be limited for the next few weeks at least.

Jeff Tracy ran into the waiting room of the ER, looking around frantically until he spotted Scott and Virgil sitting at the far end.

"Boys, I got here as soon as I could. Virgil, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad." Virgil was determined to show his father how well he was coping. Once again he felt a little ashamed that his family seemed more concerned about him than about his injured grandmother.

Jeff nodded approvingly at him, knowing how hard this must have been for Virgil. Although he appreciated the effort Virgil was making to be strong, he suddenly realised that even though Virgil might not need comforting, he himself certainly did. He pulled his son into a tight hug. After a moment he reached out for Scott too. The display of emotion no longer surprised Virgil, but the fact that it was happening in a public place did.

But Jeff was soon back to his usual self: demanding to see a doctor and pacing the waiting room as he waited for news.

It was another half an hour before a doctor approached them.

"Mr Tracy?"

"Yes. Do you have news of my mother?"

"Your mother's going to be okay. She's awake now, though she has quite a nasty concussion. We're just preparing her for surgery – her leg is badly broken and we need to pin it."

"Can I see her?"

"Not until she's out of surgery. That might not be for a few hours yet."

Jeff wouldn't feel truly relieved until he'd seen his mother, but he made himself smile across at Scott and Virgil who had been listening anxiously. He shook hands with the doctor then returned to his sons.

"I want you two to go home. John will have his hands full with Gordon and Alan."

"But Dad..." Jeff didn't expect Scott to agree. Not wanting a prolonged argument he immediately played his ace.

"Virgil's exhausted. You need to get him home."

Scott might have been swayed by this argument as he turned to look at his brother. Virgil, however, was having none of it.

"No!" he said. "I'm not going!" His case might have been a little more convincing if he hadn't broken into another coughing fit, but he still glared defiantly at his father.

"Virgil. You –"

"Please, Dad. The last time I saw Grandma she was all... bleeding and... broken. I don't want to think of her like that. I want to see her tonight. I need to know she's okay."

Damn artist's imagination, thought Jeff, well aware that his son could create the most vivid pictures in his mind, especially those where he had a real-life image to base them upon. It might be better for Virgil to see his grandmother in order to put his mind at ease. But he thought he'd better make one more effort to send him home, for form's sake, if nothing else.

"Look, Virgil, it could be hours yet. Anyway, Grandma might not look much better when you do see her. She's been badly hurt, you know."

"I don't care."

"I'd like to see Grandma too," Scott said. Virgil moved closer to his older brother and stared at his father determinedly.

"Two against one, is it?" Jeff couldn't hide a smile. "You know, I think I preferred it when you two were arguing. Okay, we'll see what the doctors say when she gets out of surgery. But I expect you to try to get some rest, Virgil. You're still not well."

Sure enough, it wasn't much longer before Virgil fell asleep in his chair again, leaving Scott and his father to chat quietly for the next couple of hours until a doctor arrived with news of Grandma.

Jeff shook Virgil awake.

"Come on, wake up."

Virgil looked up at him in bewilderment. Then he remembered what had happened.

"Grandma?"

"She's fine. We can see her for a few minutes, then you and Scott are going home. I'll stay here tonight."

Jeff felt like a scared little boy as he stood outside his mother's room. He'd been strong whenever his boys were sick or hurt because he was their father and that was his job, but this... he hadn't realised just how much he depended on his mother for security and reassurance. He didn't want to see her hurt and vulnerable. He didn't quite trust himself not to break down.

"Come on, Dad," Virgil pulled at his arm as Scott pushed the door open.

It wasn't as bad as Jeff had feared. His mother was sleepy and obviously in pain, but she didn't look too bad. Typically, she scolded him for making a fuss and for letting the boys stay up so late. He took the scolding gratefully, a sign that his mother was really okay. Virgil and Scott had laughed and hugged her, happy to have just a few minutes with her before heading home.

"How are you?" Jeff asked when they'd gone, knowing she'd put on a brave face in front of them.

"Not so good," she admitted. "How's Virgil holding up?"

"Good," Jeff told her. "He did well. He really is getting better. Now you're the one we need to worry about."

"I don't know how we're going to manage..." she began before Jeff cut her off.

"We'll be fine. Don't worry. Just get some rest."

He watched as she drifted off to sleep. She was right, he thought. Organising five boys was like a military operation. The next few weeks were going to be quite a challenge.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hope this loads properly - FF is being difficult! Thanks as always for reviews and alerts._

Chapter Five

Managing the routines of five boys with different interests had never been easy. Now, with Grandma out of action, it was even more of a problem. At least Scott had managed to stay free of the flu and had rallied round valiantly, missing football practices and breaking dates to ensure Gordon got to his swimming practices and Virgil kept up his piano lessons and counselling sessions. He didn't complain, but Virgil felt guilty, especially when he realised that Scott's girlfriend's birthday was the same day as his next meeting with Antonia.

"I can miss this week," he offered, but Scott was having none of it. Virgil wasn't giving in so easily though.

"Well, how about if you take me and I get Mrs Henderson to pick me up? She's offered to help out often enough."

Their neighbour was an old friend of Grandma's and, reluctant as he was to ask anyone for help, Scott reasoned that just for once, this might be a solution which would suit everyone. Grateful for all that Grandma and Jeff had done for her following the sudden death of her husband, Milly Henderson had been a great help this past week, helping with shopping and housework and offering her assistance wherever it might be needed.

Scott hadn't expected Jeff to agree, but Virgil had pleaded his case and Jeff, already concerned that his eldest son was once again focused on his brothers at the expense of his own interests, had agreed, though only on the condition that Virgil spent the following weekend helping Mrs Henderson with her overgrown garden.

It had been an eventful week for Virgil. Following his breakthrough at the hospital, he made a great effort to do more by himself. With his father's agreement, he walked down the road to his friend Dylan's house, albeit with Jeff on the phone to him all the way, just in case. But he walked back all by himself. The fact that it was only fifty yards down the road didn't matter. He felt so excited and proud that he'd managed even such a short distance. Each day he managed to get a little further from his house. When Friday came he decided to be a bit more adventurous, hoping to impress Antonia with his progress. He decided to walk home from school instead of getting a lift. Jeff wasn't too sure about this, but, remembering his promise to Antonia, he decided to live with the worry and let Virgil do it. It shouldn't be too bad – he'd have some of his classmates with him for most of the way, it was only the last few blocks which he'd have to manage on his own. It was a pity that Dylan had gone down with the flu and wasn't able to walk with him, but Virgil was determined to go ahead that day and Jeff didn't have the heart to refuse, much as he wanted to.

It was a nervous Grandma, only a few days out of hospital, who waited for Virgil to return home, anxiously watching the clock and casting glances at the phone every few minutes. The phone did ring, but it was just Jeff, checking to see if his son had returned home yet.

"Any moment now, Jeff," Grandma said, promising to call him as soon as Virgil arrived.

It was only a few minutes later that the door opened then banged shut. Grandma was about to call out to her grandson when the door opened a second time and Scott's voice, lacking its usual calmness, called,

"Virgil? Virg? Look, I'm sorry, okay. Talk to me."

Virgil stormed into the lounge, throwing his school bag onto the floor. He was followed by a flustered looking Scott.

"What's going on?" Grandma asked in some confusion.

Virgil cast a furious look at Scott.

"He followed me!"

"I wanted to be sure you were okay," Scott said weakly.

"I was fine until I realised someone was following me," Virgil snapped. "What do you think that did to me? For a moment I thought..." his voice trailed off. "Then I realised it had to be you. No self-respecting kidnapper would be that obvious."

He rounded angrily on his brother.

"You couldn't let me do this by myself, could you? How am I ever going to feel happy going out alone if someone's always watching me? I might as well ask Dad for a bodyguard and have done with it." He turned his back on his brother and headed into the kitchen.

Grandma shook her head sadly as Scott sank into a chair.

"Not one of your brightest ideas, Scott. You know Virgil needs to do this by himself."

"I know." Scott looked down at the floor. "And I should have realised I'd scare him. But he gave me a fright too. He went round a corner and when I got there he'd disappeared. I thought it had happened all over again... Then he jumped out from behind a tree – he nearly scared me to death. He's really mad at me."

"I'm not surprised. He's so thrilled to be doing this, Scott. You need to let him get on with it, however worried you are. I know it's hard, sweetheart, but if your father can manage it then you can too."

The phone rang again.

"That will be your father now. You'd better get Virgil – he'll want to talk to him."

As Scott headed towards the kitchen he could hear his grandma begin to tell Jeff all about it. He felt terrible. He'd just wanted to check his brother was safe. He hadn't expected Virgil to realise he was being followed – he'd been as quiet as he could be and kept his distance but he supposed he should have guessed that Virgil would be on edge, looking and listening for anything which could be perceived as a threat. He didn't blame his brother for being angry.

Virgil still hadn't forgiven him by the time Scott drove him to Antonia's office. It was a quiet, tense journey and as Virgil left the car, slamming the door behind him, he pointedly refused to say goodbye to his brother. Scott, however, couldn't help reminding Virgil to call him if there was any problem. Getting no response he drove off, though he waited a moment to check that Virgil got safely inside the building.

The counselling session went well once Virgil had calmed down. Antonia was delighted to hear of the progress he - and his father - had made.

At the end of the session, full of confidence and enthusiasm, Virgil had gone back into the reception. He looked through the window but there was no sign of Mrs Henderson. Checking his phone he saw he'd received a text: _Car trouble – call Scott to collect you. Sorry!_

Virgil thought for a moment. Yes, he could call Scott, but that would mean actually speaking to his brother, not to mention spoiling his first night out in over a week. As mad as he was with Scott, he didn't want to do that to him. Gazing out of the window through the darkness and drizzle something caught his eye. For a moment, thoughts of the dangers which might lurk outside flashed through his mind, but he pushed them aside, pleased at how easy this was becoming. Instead he thought about how far he'd come since his abduction. Finally he thought about how furious he'd been with Scott that afternoon, how frustrating it was to have his brother still hovering over him when he was trying to become independent again. With a sudden flash of determination, he smiled across at the receptionist, pushed the door open and headed across the road to the bus stop. His coat protected him against the biting cold, but he pulled his hood up as the rain began to fall more heavily. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he searched for change.

If he'd had to wait long for the bus he'd probably have lost his nerve and run back to the safety of the office in order to call Scott, but by some miracle the bus had arrived just seconds after he'd reached the stop and he was on board and sitting down even before he quite realised what he was doing. Then the enormity of his actions struck him and he sat back in a mix of fear and excitement, wondering if this would be the final step in breaking free of all the terrors which had trapped him for so long or if he was about to start panicking again.

The excitement didn't last long, but the fear did. The bus began to fill up as it headed towards the station. No one sat next to him though and he looked fixedly out of the window, trying to ignore the reflections of the other passengers, unwilling to catch anyone's eye. He suddenly wondered if he'd been foolish – twenty-five million dollars worth of Tracy out alone surrounded by strangers. What had he done? Until now he'd only managed a few short walks along quiet streets. Maybe he'd been a bit impetuous. He cursed Milly Henderson and her unreliable car.

Sinking down in his seat and pulling his hood further over his face, he thought about calling Scott and asking him to meet him at the bus station. But he'd have to wait at the station for a good twenty minutes before his brother could get there and, if he was lucky, he might be able to get a bus home before then. Plus, it would just confirm to Scott that he wasn't ready to be out alone. No, he thought, he was going to do this. The throb of the engine caught his attention and he began to make up a tune, using the engine noise as a beat. After a few minutes he looked around the bus. Nothing had changed. No one was taking any notice of him. A feeling of triumph swept over him. He was going to do this.

The bus pulled into the station and he jumped off. It was only then that he realised that he had no idea where to get the bus which would take him home. He'd never been to the station before and he was a little taken aback by the size of it. He suddenly felt very lost and vulnerable and a wave of anxiety swept over him. Putting a shaky hand out to the wall for support as he closed his eyes, he forced himself to breathe deeply, gradually relaxing.

"Are you alright?" a woman's voice asked and he looked up to see a middle-aged woman hovering over him with a concerned look on her face. He wondered if he should confide in her that he hadn't a clue where he needed to go and that he could really do with some help, but then thought about Lena Redman. Just because this woman looked harmless didn't mean she could be trusted. No, being out alone was enough to cope with right now. He'd try talking to strangers another time!

"Fine, thanks," he muttered and hurried away. Time to call Scott, he thought, reaching for his phone. After all, he'd come this far, it was a victory of sorts. He'd proved to his brother that he was capable of getting along by himself. Maybe next time he could make it all the way home.

Huddled in a quiet corner he took out his phone. Selecting Scott's number, his finger hovered over the call button. Just one press of the button and everything would be okay. He saw a coffee house in the distance, bright and welcoming. He could wait there and be safe. Scott would come to the rescue as usual. He saw himself sitting safely in Scott's car, his brother caring and concerned – or perhaps angry at him for doing something so stupid in the first place – whichever, he'd certainly be hiding his disappointment at the curtailing of his date. He sighed. Scott wouldn't be worried about finding his way around a bus station, nor would John. Gordon would see it as an adventure. Perhaps Alan would panic, but Virgil had his doubts about that too. He was so tired of feeling like the weak one, the one who needed to be looked after. Calling Scott would be an admission of failure. He'd come too far to give up now. He put the phone back in his pocket and thought for a moment. _Nothing to worry about_, he told himself. _Remember what you've learned. Just assess the situation, stay calm and do what needs to be done. Find the bus stop, get on the bus and get home. Back in the house within the hour_. _Just break it down into easy steps._ _You can do this_, he told himself.

_Okay, _he thought, _step one – find the bus stop._ Across the way he could see a timetable. That seemed his obvious destination, but a group of teenagers were standing right beside it, hoods pulled down over their faces, cigarettes hanging from their fingers. Maybe he could ask someone rather than braving the gang. Glancing around he saw one of the bus drivers, a young, dark-haired man, and had to fight back a sudden jolt of fear. The man looked vaguely like Dan Redman and for a moment he thought it actually was him. He forced himself to stop that thought before it led to total panic. Dan was safely locked away. No one knew who he was; no one was going to hurt him. But even so, it was a step too far to go up to the man. The timetable it was.

They ignored him at first as he slid past them in order to get close enough to read it. Running his finger down the list of buses, he came to the ones which ran closest to his house. To his relief one was due to leave in just a few minutes, though the stand it left from was apparently at the other end of the station. He turned to leave, only to find one of the gang standing in front of him. Before he knew what was happening, his hood was pushed back and a hand gripped his arm tightly. He let out a cry of fear before he could stop himself. _They're just kids_, he told himself, _they're not going to take me away_. _It's not going to happen again. _

"I thought it was you," a familiar voice said. But there was no comfort for Virgil as he realised he'd just been caught by James McCauley. As he tried to pull away, the largest of the gang pushed him violently back against the wall.

"Think it's funny to break my kid brother's nose, do you?" he asked, coldly.

Looking up into the face of his captor, Virgil's heart sank as he recognised Ross McCauley, James' older – and meaner – brother. But at least he knew that he wasn't going to be kidnapped again. Hurt, probably, but he could deal with that. And that was only if he let it happen. He'd faced Luke Redman who'd beaten him nearly senseless; surely nothing James and Ross could do to him could ever come close to that.

"Your brother started it," Virgil said, twisting his arm, trying to free himself. James had threatened him with reprisals from his brother, but Virgil had pointed out that he himself had two older brothers, one in particular who was older, bigger and a whole lot scarier than Ross. He wished now he'd called Scott. Though Ross wasn't to know that he hadn't...

"Scott's meeting me in a minute," he said, eyes darting around the station as if he was looking for his brother. In fact he was looking for anyone who might help – the kindly woman or even the almost-Dan bus driver.

"Oh, a minute will be plenty long enough," Ross smiled, his eyes hard. His friends moved in closer.

"We'd better get out of sight," James warned. "Wouldn't want anyone to stop us before we've really hurt him, would we?" He fixed Virgil with what he obviously thought was a threatening glare. It didn't have the desired effect on a boy who'd seen far worse.

"You've got to be kidding me," Virgil said, surprising himself by how calm he sounded. "Do you really think you're scaring me? After what I've been through?"

He was just playing for time really, hoping for some way of escape. He was under no illusions that he was in serious trouble unless he could get away.

"Come on," Ross said, yanking his arm and pulling him towards a shadowy corner. Virgil stood his ground. Fighting back the fear which kept pulling at him, he knew that he had to get away. As a young couple approached them the other kids stood in front of him to block him from view and Ross put a hand over Virgil's mouth to stop him calling out for help. Seizing his chance, Virgil bit down as hard as he could. As Ross pulled away, yelping in pain, Virgil kicked him hard on the ankle then jerked out of his grasp. Years of chasing and being chased by his brothers paid off and he was off and running faster than any of them could react.

They weren't too far behind though and although he was fast, he knew they were keeping pace. Darting in front of a bus, wincing at the squealing of brakes and the sharp blare of the horn, he gained some time as his pursuers had to stop or else be run over. Racing towards the other side of the station, he saw his bus waiting. But there was no one there. The driver hadn't arrived yet and there were no waiting passengers who might offer help. The commuter rush was over and it was too early for the evening drinking crowd. The way out was close, but that would mean running into a part of town he'd been warned was dangerous, especially at night. There was no other alternative, however, not without turning back the way he'd come - and that would mean running straight back into the gang. Hearing Ross's angry cries behind him, he flew towards the entrance, then, as a bus drove past behind him, putting him out of sight of his pursuers for a moment, he turned quickly and threw himself under the bus which was waiting to take him home. It was his only hope of salvation. He hoped the gang would assume he'd gone out of the exit and 'follow' him out.

Sure enough, the sound of running feet went past and gradually faded. But Virgil didn't move. Although he'd managed to put himself directly under a slowly dripping oil leak, he didn't dare make a move or a sound, just in case the gang realised he'd tricked them and came back. He should really get up and move back the way he came, he thought, but right now he didn't have the strength, his heart pounding and his breathing little more than a gasp as he tried to recover himself. He lay there for a few more minutes until he suddenly became aware of footsteps. Holding his breath, he wondered if it was the McCauleys and their friends, but then realised that the hydraulic hiss of the doors could only mean one thing – the driver. Scuttling out from under the bus, coughing from the faceful of exhaust fumes he'd inhaled as the driver started the engine, he almost threw himself into the safety of the inside. If the driver thought he looked a mess with his flushed face and oil-stained coat, he said nothing, handing Virgil the ticket and starting the engine.

Virgil sat directly behind the driver, not daring to relax until they were on their way. He was safe now, he thought. Even if they came back they wouldn't be able to do anything. It was a tense few minutes before the driver finally closed the doors and set off. Only then could Virgil begin to relax. Only then did he fully realise what he'd done.

He sat back in his seat, his heart pounding. He couldn't believe it. In the space of half an hour he'd not only ventured out into the city by himself, but he'd escaped a gang who wanted to give him a pounding and, most importantly, he wasn't hysterical or violent or ... anything. He hadn't felt this euphoric since he'd had the call to say he'd won the art competition which he'd blamed for getting him captured in the first place. Antonia would be proud, he thought. So would his Dad and Scott – once they'd forgiven him for doing something so stupid in the first place. Right now he didn't care. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like himself again. He watched as the bus moved along then came to a stop at a red light. Then he caught his breath. There was James – and he'd seen him. For a moment Virgil thought he was going to try to board the bus. Then the light turned green and the bus began to pull away. With a triumphant smile at his enemy, Virgil settled down, full of adrenaline, finally anticipating a future with no worries and no more flashbacks to the worst time of his life.

Back at the Tracy house, Jeff had returned home and was just settling down with a much-needed drink. It was then that the phone rang.

"Oh, hello, Jeff," came the slightly befuddled tones of Milly Henderson. "I just wanted to apologise for the trouble I caused tonight."

"Trouble?" Jeff asked, not quite sure what to make of this. Milly had been due to collect Virgil, he knew, and alarm bells were going off before she'd finished her next sentence.

"My car is usually so reliable. I don't know what the problem is. Did poor Scott mind having to collect Virgil?"

"Mom!" Jeff called, suddenly worried. His mother hadn't mentioned any change of plan.

"Did Virgil get back alright?" Mrs Henderson asked. "It's very kind of him to offer to help me in the garden..."

Jeff let her ramble on as he reached his mother's room. "Where's Virgil?"

"On his way back from his counselling session, I imagine. Milly's driving him. They should be – What's going on?" She'd seen from the panicked look on his face that something was very wrong.

"Mrs Henderson couldn't pick him up. He was supposed to call Scott."

"Scott? I haven't heard from him either."

Putting the phone down on a surprised Milly Henderson, Jeff called Scott.

"Hey, Dad, what's going on?"

"Have you heard from Virgil?"

"Virgil? No, why? What's happened?" Scott's voice was sharp with worry.

"I don't know. Mrs Henderson couldn't pick him up. She told him to call you. Are you sure you haven't heard from him?"

"No, there were no missed calls or anything when I answered you just now. But he still wasn't speaking to me when I dropped him off."

"Okay, I'm going to call Antonia Carlisle, just in case he's still there." Jeff knew this was unlikely, but he had nowhere else to start. "Can you drive over there? You're closer than me."

"Okay, Dad, I'm on my way. Call me if there's any news."

"Jeff," his mother said as he put the phone down, "Have you tried calling Virgil?"

It was the obvious thing to do, but in his panic Jeff had forgotten. "No, I'll do it now."

It seemed to take forever for the call to connect. Jeff was growing frantic, convinced that he'd lost his son again. When the call was picked up he didn't know what to say at first, concern and fury locked in anguished competition.

"Virgil?" was all that came out in a voice which lacked its usual control.

"Hi, Dad," came the surprisingly calm tone of his son.

"Where are you? Mrs Henderson called – "

"Yeah, I didn't want to disturb Scott so I got the bus."

"_The bus_? What the hell are you doing on a bus?"

Jeff didn't know how to react to this. After all Virgil had said about taking things slowly, what on earth was he doing taking a bus?

"It's okay, Dad, I'm nearly home. I'll be there in two minutes."

Virgil rang off, leaving Jeff staring at the phone in confusion. Then he jumped up and rushed out, forgetting his jacket but too anxious to notice the cold and the rain.

When Virgil disembarked from the bus he wasn't surprised to see his father waiting. The long journey had given him time to think about what he'd done, the danger he'd put himself in. Strangely enough the threat of the McCauley brothers wasn't a concern. He just kept thinking that for the past few months he'd been too scared to go out alone - he didn't really count the short trips he'd taken along the streets near his house - but now he'd actually done it. He'd faced unknown people and places - not to mention unexpected danger - and survived. He felt like he could take on anyone or anything. But his father's furious face stopped him in his tracks as he casually swung himself off the bus.

Jeff grabbed his arm, much like James had done just a half hour earlier. "What on earth do you think you're doing? I wouldn't have let you get a bus across town by yourself even before..."

He broke off, taking in his son's dishevelled appearance. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad. I just didn't want to spoil Scott's evening, that's all."

"You didn't want to..." Once again Jeff couldn't finish his sentence. Was this really his son? It seemed more like the old Virgil from before the kidnapping. He wanted to wrap his arms around his son and shout for joy at the return of his son's old confidence. Of course, he also wanted to shake him for being so reckless. But before he could choose between the two options, Virgil's phone rang.

"Hi, Scott," Virgil said nonchalantly. "Yeah, it's fine, I've just got off the bus."

Jeff couldn't hear much of the other side of the conversation, but he caught a few words and saw Virgil's eyes widen in surprise. Deftly taking the phone out of his son's hand he sucked in a deep breath at his eldest son's words.

"Hello, Scott," he said quietly. "This is your father. You might want to reconsider the language you use when you talk to your brother."

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"_Dad? _What's going on? Where's Virgil? Is he alright?"

"We're just heading back to the house. It looks like he's had a little adventure, but he's okay." Jeff took in Virgil's appearance as they walked under a street lamp. The last time he'd taken a bus ride might have been some time ago, but he didn't recall arriving covered in oil. Virgil obviously had a story to tell.

An hour later Jeff sat with Scott and Virgil in his study. He looked across at his sons. Virgil was still high on adrenaline, apologetic for worrying his father and brother, but at the same time unable to hide his pride in his achievement.

"I don't know what to do with you," Jeff confessed. "Virgil, I should ground you for doing something so irresponsible, but that would seem counter-productive right now. But don't ever scare me like that again. As for you, Scott, if I ever hear language like that again, especially to one of your younger brothers, you'll be grounded yourself!"

"Sorry, Dad," Scott said sheepishly.

"Go on, the pair of you," Jeff said affectionately. "Virgil, if you're up to it you can go with Gordon and Alan to the park for a couple of hours tomorrow. That should be punishment enough."

"I might have a relapse, Dad," Virgil teased, but the idea was actually quite appealing. He was looking forward to being a proper big brother again. He'd felt pretty useless lately.

Jeff and Scott watched in bewilderment as he left the study.

"Well, I didn't expect that," Scott said. "Talk about jumping in with both feet. The kid spends a couple of hours in a hospital waiting room, walks a couple of blocks home, and suddenly he's running around town at night without a care. McCauley probably did him a favour, come to think of it – at least being chased took his mind off being out alone."

Jeff said nothing. He really didn't know what to make of it all. He had to admit Virgil had taken a huge step that night. He just hoped this wasn't just a one-off act of recklessness which would quickly be replaced with another bout of nervousness. He wondered how he'd cope now that his son appeared to be nearly back to normal, deciding he'd just have to make the effort to hide his fears and try not to think of all the terrible things which could have happened that night.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for all the reviews. I'm really pleased with the response to this story. _

_I could have finished it with the bus ride, but that would have made things too easy, plus I promised there'd be more of the other boys in this story, so..._

Chapter Six

The months passed and, despite the occasional wobble, Virgil regained his confidence. He was quieter and more serious than before, but he was certainly enjoying life more than he'd done for a long time. Summer came and his birthday was fast approaching. Thirteen was a milestone anyway, but this birthday assumed great significance in Virgil's eyes for a different reason. Soon the kidnapping could be placed in the _'when I was twelve..._' category and this would allow him to distance himself even further from what had happened to him. He'd even decided – with Antonia's agreement – that he no longer needed his counselling sessions.

He decided to present her with a painting as a thank you when he came to his final appointment.

"Virgil, it's beautiful," Antonia said as she studied the brightly coloured abstract. She looked across at him. "What are you telling me?"

"It's how I feel now," he said. "For a long time everything was dark: all blacks and greys, but now I can see bright colours again. Actually, I was going to do a 'before and after', but I couldn't get into the right mood for the 'before'."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You really don't need me any more you know," she said. Her finger traced over the one dark colour in the painting and she looked enquiringly up at him. "Purple?"

Virgil shrugged then laughed. "Gordon and Alan! I didn't say my life was perfect, did I?"

Antonia laughed too as her eyes wandered across the walls of her room. "I'm going to put it here," she said, indicating a suitable spot. "It might inspire some of my other clients. If nothing else it will give them something nice to look at whilst they're ignoring me."

She smiled as Virgil reddened with embarrassment.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't think it was going to do any good, but you did help."

"I'm glad. Now you take care of yourself." She watched in satisfaction as he walked out to the reception area where Scott was waiting. Seeing the two boys together she smiled. When she'd first met Virgil he'd only come up to Scott's elbow. Now he was level with his shoulder.

"Hey, Virg, come on, everyone's waiting in the car." Scott was already through the door.

"I'm ready." He took a last look around then followed his brother to his car. John was in the front seat so Virgil climbed into the back between Alan and Gordon.

"Dad won't make it," John informed him as Scott drove off. "His flight's been delayed."

"Oh. Does that mean we can't go for pizza afterwards? Won't it be too late for Alan?" Virgil asked with some disappointment. His youngest brother was often tired out and irritable by the end of a game and Jeff would take him straight home.

Alan was bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of his first baseball game with just his big brothers and with a mouthful of chocolate his response didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"No," Gordon said. "Grandma said we could still go. We only have to bring him home if he falls asleep."

"And I plan on filling him up with so much sugar that he won't sleep for a week," John smiled wickedly, handing his youngest brother another chocolate bar.

If Alan was excited in the car, he really got worked up when they reached the stadium. As ever, he was wide-eyed with fascination at all the sights and sounds and immediately headed over to the merchandise stand where his heart was captured by a bear dressed in the team strip.

"No, Alan," Scott said, catching his hand. "We need to get to our seats, the game's about to start."

Alan's face fell.

"Oh, come on, Scott," Virgil said, "It's his first game without Dad. We should get him a souvenir." Virgil was well aware that Jeff still guarded Alan fiercely and he worried that his youngest brother was going to be babied for a lot longer than he should be. Anything which showed Jeff that his boy could cope without him had to be a good thing and the happier Alan was when he returned home, the better.

"You're going to buy it for him?" Scott asked in amusement.

"Well..." Virgil said, turning out his pockets and coming up with very little. "That's what big brothers are for, isn't it?"

"You're his big brother," Scott pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm still only twelve. My allowance isn't as big as yours."

Alan was gazing at Virgil with an expression of such hope that John had to laugh.

"I'll get it, Scott," he said, taking out his wallet.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why not?" Pocketing his change he took the toy and handed it to Alan who clutched it eagerly.

"Thanks, Virgil," he said, a look of pure adoration on his face.

"Hey!" John exclaimed. "How come Virgil gets the thanks? I paid for it."

"Yeah, but I did the negotiating," Virgil laughed as Alan reached for John's hand.

"Thanks, Johnny," Alan said as they walked to their seats. "Are we having popcorn?"

"Virg, you've got enough for that, I saw it," John said.

"On my way." Virgil was gone. John watched him disappear through the crowd. His brother had certainly come a long way, he thought. Suddenly he was distracted by a bear in his face.

"Barclay wants to say 'hello,'" Alan giggled. He'd named the bear after Cal Barclay, the team's star pitcher.

It couldn't have been a better night. Their team, who'd had a pretty dismal season so far, won in a nail-biting, last gasp finish. Convinced that Barclay Bear had brought them luck, Alan was beside himself with excitement and the others weren't much better. Rising from their seats, still discussing the miraculous victory, they allowed the crowd in front of them to disperse before wandering out of the stadium. A couple of security guards were on duty at the main exit and as the boys neared them the younger one called out to them.

"Hey, Scott, how are you?" He smiled at the other boys. "Hi guys, enjoy the game?"

"Ryan!" Scott was pleased to see one of his old football team mates. Ryan Johnson was a few years older and they hadn't seen each other since Ryan had left school. Ryan introduced Jim Hanson, his colleague, who shook Scott's hand warmly before leaving the two to talk.

"So this is what you're doing now," Scott said to Ryan.

"Yeah, I get to watch the games for free even if I do have to stay here all night afterwards. Still, the girls like the uniform. Hey, I hear you're seeing Ella Rowland now."

A dreamy look came over Scott's face. Virgil and Gordon groaned.

"I'll take the boys on out to the car," John said quickly. His heart was sinking too at the thought of listening to yet another discourse on why this latest girlfriend was so much better than all the rest.

It was several minutes before Scott returned to his impatient brothers.

"Come on, let's get some food. I'm starving."

By the time they'd queued for a table and been served it was late. A ball by ball review of the game helped pass the time and Alan did well to stay awake through the meal. Finally though his eyes started to close and John sighed.

"Come on, guys, we'd better get moving. Gordon's nearly asleep too."

"Am... not," Gordon tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

They rose from the table. Scott went to pick Alan up but he pushed him away and got up himself. They'd started to leave when there was a sudden anguished cry,

"_Barclay!"_

"What?" Virgil asked, surprised by his little brother's sudden distress. "Who's Barclay?"

"The bear," John said with sudden realisation. "Where did you have him last, Al?"

"In the stadium." Alan's eyes began to fill with tears.

"Oh well," said Gordon. "That's it. He's probably going into the incinerator right about now." He never knew how close he came to being strangled by his three older brothers with that comment as Alan started to howl.

"_No!"_ Conscious of the looks they were getting from the other customers, Scott tried to cheer his brother up.

"Never mind, Allie. We'll get you another bear next time."

"Want Barclay," Alan sobbed, over-tired and refusing to be pacified by any of his brothers. "He's my lucky bear. We'll never win another game without Barclay."

"Hey, Scott," said Virgil. "You know the security guard, right? He'd let us back in. We could go and look for Barclay."

"Oh, come on Virg, it's late and -" with a glare at Gordon – "Tactless as he may be, Gordon's probably right. That bear's long gone."

"Well, you never know. They might not clean up until tomorrow. We could try."

"Virg, do you really want to drive all the way back and hunt around for a stupid bear?"

"_Please_, Scotty," Alan was so distraught that Scott gave in.

"Okay, but if I can't find Ryan straight away we're going home. No arguments."

He had to run to catch Alan who was already hurtling towards the door.

The stadium was deserted when they arrived. Scott was tempted to just pull away but Alan's distress hadn't abated and he hadn't the heart to do so.

"Do you guys want to stay here?" Scott asked, getting out of the car and opening the back door to get Alan out.

"No, it'll be quicker if we all look," John said, yawning as he got out. Virgil and Gordon got out too and the five brothers headed for the entrance.

Knocking on the door, Scott thought it would be a miracle if anyone heard. But it seemed as though their luck was in, although it wasn't Ryan who came bounding over, but Jim. Although obviously surprised when he saw the five boys, he unlocked the door.

"Hey... Scott isn't it? What's going on?"

"I left Barclay behind," Alan said pathetically as he pushed past Scott.

"His bear," Scott said in explanation as Jim looked confused. "Can we have a quick look to see if we can find him? Poor kid's devastated."

"Well, I shouldn't really. We're all closed up."

"_Please_... he's all alone in there and Gordon said they're going to put him in the incinerator." Alan looked so mournful that Jim would have had to have had a heart of stone not to be persuaded.

"Well, you boys don't look like some criminal gang. I think tonight's takings are safe. Okay, go and have a look. Ryan's in there somewhere – try not to scare him!"

"Thanks," Scott watched as John, Alan, Gordon and Virgil ran off into the stadium. "I appreciate this. He's tired and a bit overexcited. "

"No problem," Jim smiled. "I've got one myself just a bit younger." They chatted amiably as they waited for the boys to return.

"_Barclay!" _Alan spotted the bear lying in a pile of popcorn kernels underneath a seat. Dusting him off, he clutched him to his chest, turning round to his brothers with a big grin on his face.

"I saved you," he said triumphantly, poking his tongue out at Gordon. "No-one's going to throw you into the incinerator now."

"Come on, Al," John said. "Let's get going. It's late."

They headed back towards the entrance.

Jim was telling Scott about his son when they heard footsteps in the corridor.

"There they are. I hope they found that bear," Jim said, walking over to open the door. Scott had just begun to search his pockets for his car keys when he was surprised by a startled cry from Jim. Looking up, he saw the security guard stumble backwards, apparently pushed by someone at the door. _That's not the boys_, he thought in confusion as Jim crashed to the floor and was set upon by a figure dressed all in black. It happened so quickly that Scott had no time to react as the man brought the butt of a gun down hard on Jim's head. Jim slumped to the floor as another man came into the lobby. His gaze fell directly onto Scott, who could think of nothing else to do but to try to edge his way into the shadows. With a fluid, easy movement which suggested he'd done this many times before, the man pulled out a gun and pointed it steadily at him.

"Stay there!"

Scott couldn't quite believe what was happening. Just fifteen minutes earlier he'd been happily eating pizza with his brothers and now he'd witnessed a man being beaten up and was staring down at a gun. He felt a sharp spike of fear, realising how Virgil must have felt last summer. Suddenly thinking of his brother he panicked. Virgil couldn't see this. After all the progress he'd made, this was surely going to push him over the edge once again.

Desperately listening for the sound of his brothers returning, wondering if he would have any chance of warning them, Scott watched helplessly as Jim was bound and gagged. Then, both men turned their attention to him. For the first time he got a look at the man who had attacked Jim. With a sinking feeling he recognised the face of an old acquaintance from school - like Ryan, a couple of years older than him. Not a friend – Mitch Leonard had been one of the undesirables of the school: always in trouble, often suspended, best avoided. Now, as Mitch advanced on him, gripping his gun by the barrel just as he had done when putting Jim out of action, he knew he was really in trouble. The other man still had his gun trained on him and, despite every instinct screaming at him to do something, there was nothing he could do except close his eyes and wait. The blow to his head didn't even hurt – he was unconscious before his brain could register the pain. In just a few moments he too was tied up and gagged.

The door opened and Ryan came through. A delighted grin lit up his face as he saw Jim lying on the ground. It disappeared quickly as his gaze slid onto Scott.

"What the hell was Tracy doing here?" Mitch asked. "I thought you said the place was clear."

"It was," said a puzzled Ryan. "Jim must have let him in, but why?" Suddenly a panicked expression crossed his face. "Scott was at the game earlier. He had his brothers with him. All four of them. You don't think..."

Their fear was realised as the sound of voices drifted through from the corridor.

"Right, Ryan," the other man said, "Get out there and stall them. Give us a moment to decide what to do."

Ryan disappeared and they could hear his voice mingling with the other, younger voices.

What are we going to do, Carl?" Mitch asked. "Scott saw me, he can identify me."

"Well, it's a bit late to back out now," Carl pointed out, waving his hand in the direction of the two captives. "Even if we leave without taking anything we're still in trouble. We might as well keep going."

"What about him?" Mitch asked, indicating Scott with a flick of his gun.

"I don't know yet. I'll think about it while we're getting the cash. Why don't you help Ryan get those kids in here? We need to get them out of the way and I don't want them making a run for it – we'll never catch them if they get out into the stadium."

Mitch headed for the door, gun raised and ready.

Out in the corridor John and the others were getting restless. Ryan had taken a great interest in the fate of Barclay Bear, but there was only so much mileage to be got out of that and he was running out of ideas.

"Come on, then," John said, seeing Alan starting to fall asleep on his feet. "We'd better get Scott and be on our way."

Taking Alan's hand he started to move towards the door. It opened and he looked up, expecting to see the familiar face of Scott. Instead he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun.

John had often wondered what he'd have done if he'd been the one to get captured instead of Virgil. He'd liked to think that he'd have been able to escape during the initial abduction. Not that he was blaming Virgil in any way, but he felt he'd have spotted the danger sooner, found some way of outsmarting the Redman cousins, maybe even prevented Mike Donovan's death. Now he realised that he wouldn't have done anything different. What could you do when you were a boy confronted by a man with a gun? Instinct told him to move in front of Alan... to run... to shout to Virgil and Gordon to get away, but shock and fear held him still. Then the moment was lost as Ryan moved behind the other boys, cutting off any way of escape.

There was a stunned silence for a moment. Then Alan began to scream. Although he'd been spared the full details of Virgil's kidnapping, he'd picked up plenty of snippets of information. The sight of a man with a gun immediately suggested that someone had come to take his brother away again and he began screaming for Virgil, begging the man to leave his brother alone.

It was the need to help his brother which got John moving again and he picked Alan up, trying to quieten him down. In a blind panic, Gordon turned to run, but was pushed back by Ryan. Only Virgil didn't move. He stood frozen in shock, just staring blankly at the man with the gun. He had gone a sickly shade of grey and his breath was coming in short panicky gasps.

"Virgil?" John asked anxiously, edging closer to his brother, still trying to comfort Alan. "Virg?"

"Get moving," Mitch said, grabbing Gordon's arm and pushing him through the door, ignoring his screams of protest. "And the rest of you."

When Virgil didn't immediately move Ryan gave him a shove. Virgil crashed to the floor and John set Alan down to kneel beside his trembling brother. Alan screamed again, kicking out frantically as Mitch picked him up and took him into the lobby. John could hear Gordon starting to cry hysterically. Then Mitch reappeared.

"Get moving," he said, waving the gun at the two boys.

"Just give me a minute," John said. "Can't you see the state he's in?" Turning his back on his captor he tried to get through to his brother.

"Come on, Virg, what happened to all those things Antonia taught you?" He hugged his brother, whispering quietly to him, reminding him that this time he wasn't alone. When Virgil finally seemed to get his panic under control, turning to look at him and nodding shakily, John smiled.

"Good work, Virg. Come on, let's go and see the others."

"Kid goes to pieces when he sees a gun, does he?" Mitch smirked. "Thought the Tracys were made of sterner stuff than that. Your old man's not going to be very impressed."

John glared at him but was saved from replying by Mitch's sudden exclamation.

"Hey, Ryan! Don't you remember? Last summer on the news – that must be the one who was kidnapped. Must be bringing back a few bad memories. How much did Tracy pay to get him back? What do you think, Ryan? Tonight might turn out to be a lot more profitable than we thought."

John felt Virgil tense up again and his heart sank. Surely this wasn't going to happen again. He opened his mouth to point out the difficulties in carrying out a successful kidnapping, but was forestalled by Ryan.

"You're crazy, Mitch," Ryan snapped. "We've got enough problems as it is. Kidnapping? I don't think so."

John breathed a sigh of relief as he helped Virgil to his feet. His brother was still pale but he'd lost his previous deathly pallor and his breathing was beginning to steady. There was still a slightly dazed look in his eyes though and he kept close to John as they moved to join the others.

Virgil didn't see Scott at first, his attention being distracted by Alan, who threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his waist and sobbing hysterically. Virgil could feel him shaking and, valiantly fighting his own fear, knelt down beside his brother, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay, Al," he said shakily. "Don't cry like that."

John turned to look at Gordon, wondering why he was crying so hard. Then he saw his oldest brother.

"_Scott! _What have you done to him?"

Virgil's head snapped up as he followed John's gaze and he pushed Alan to John before running to his brother, eluding Ryan's efforts to grab him.

"Scotty? Are you okay?" He shook his brother but Scott didn't move. Then Ryan pulled him away roughly.

"Let go of me," Virgil yelled, struggling to get back to Scott. John started nervously as Ryan pointed his gun straight at Virgil.

"Get back to the others."

Virgil stared at the gun, the fight going out of him, but the panic of earlier failing to return as concern for his brother and anger at his captors took hold. He glanced back at Scott anxiously then glared at Ryan as he returned to his other brothers. Alan caught hold of him once again.

After being relieved of their phones the four brothers were ordered to sit on one of the padded benches which ran around the lobby. John kept his arm tightly around Gordon who had finally calmed down a little after his initial panic at seeing Scott unconscious. Alan refused to let go of Virgil and was sitting on his lap clutching tightly at his jacket. John was relieved to see that Virgil seemed calm. He guessed that concern for Alan and desperate worry about Scott were keeping his brother's mind off his own anxiety. Mitch stood a few yards away, his gun held loosely at his side, but his eyes fixed intently on the boys.

"How're you doing, Virg?" John murmured.

Virgil took a deep breath and ruffled Alan's hair before quietly replying,

"Okay. Better than I thought I'd be. "

"You're doing fine," John reassured him. "It's the kids I'm worried about."

"What do you think they're going to do to us?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know." John tried to keep the worry out of his voice but didn't quite manage it. "I don't think they know themselves, yet." He hoped that the show with the guns was just that – show - but he wasn't sure. Although a few years younger, he'd heard enough about Mitch Leonard to know that he wouldn't be concerned about hurting people. Scott and Jim were already proof of that.

"Will you just shut up!" Mitch snapped at them. His tension was clear and they immediately did as he asked, not wanting to antagonise him.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being a few muffled sobs and the occasional hiccup from Alan.

"Mitch, over here," Carl called and the three moved away from the Tracys, though they kept them in clear view. There was a mumbled discussion which none of the boys could make out. Finally, Carl turned to them.

"Okay," he said, walking towards them flanked by Ryan and Mitch, guns held at the ready, "This is what we're going to do. All of you stand up."

Reluctantly the boys stood, instinctively moving closer together as the three men came up to them.

"You come here." Carl pointed at John. Alan let out a frantic cry, reaching for his older brother, but was quickly hushed by Virgil who pulled him close. When John hesitated Carl pointed his gun at Scott. That got him moving.

"Okay," he said, hands raised in appeasement. "Whatever you say."

"Good. Now then, you're coming with me. We need a hand loading everything into the van. I'm sure you'll behave yourself – if you want your brothers to come out of this safe and well." He looked across to Scott and Jim. "Mitch, get these two out of sight."

"What about us?" Virgil asked, his voice faint but surprisingly steady.

"We'll put you three somewhere safely out of the way. Ryan, find somewhere to lock them up then get back here."

"There are some store rooms up on the second floor – that should do," Ryan told him, turning to the boys before Mitch called him back. He'd moved Scott behind the ticket desk easily enough but was struggling with the muscular bulk of Jim.

"I could use a hand here," he grunted, forcing Ryan to go to his aid. Grateful for the chance to talk to his brothers before they were separated, John whispered to Virgil,

"Listen to me Virg, get yourself and the boys out of here if you can. Don't worry about me or Scott. Just get help. If I can get away I'll do the same."

Before Virgil could reply the men were back and John had to watch as Ryan escorted his three younger brothers out through the door. He hoped Virgil could hold it together. He thought that as long as he had Alan and Gordon to worry about he'd be okay. He turned his attention to his own plight. With both Mitch and Carl watching him, his chances of escape seemed slim. He wished they'd just left the bear and gone home. He could have been sitting in the lounge now, competing with his brothers to tell his father all about the game. He wondered how long it would take his father to work out that something was wrong – and how he would react when he discovered that this time he could lose all five of his sons.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the response to the last chapter - once again, I'm so grateful for all the feedback and support. Bee_

Chapter Seven

At the Tracy house Jeff's annoyance was about to tip over into unease. He'd arrived home a couple of hours ago, tired and irritable following a long journey, fuming at missing the game. When the boys had failed to return he'd become even more irate, wondering what on earth they were playing at. It was far too late for Alan to be out. It was well past Gordon's bedtime, even Virgil's. He knew the routine well – he'd established it himself: game, pizza, home - the youngest boys napping in the back of the car, the oldest still chattering about the game. Even when he'd taken a tired Alan home early the others had always arrived back long before now. He glanced at his watch again then reached for the phone.

When Scott didn't answer he wasn't too surprised – he was probably busy driving. When John didn't answer either Jeff was more perturbed, though he tried to persuade himself that his son must have left his phone somewhere or turned it to silent – there were lots of reasons why he might not answer. But when Virgil also failed to pick up his call he knew there was something really wrong. Virgil's phone had been his security over the past year and he would _always_ pick up a call – or let him know if there was a problem. Surely Virgil would have called straight away if there was anything wrong ... if he could, of course.

Grandma was dozing in the lounge, her book upturned on the floor. She'd made herself scarce after they'd eaten, not really in the mood for any more of Jeff's grumbles about incompetent airlines. Jeff grabbed his jacket and car keys, pulled on his shoes and went to wake his mother up.

"Jeff? Where are you going?" She yawned, then realised how silent it was. There had never been a time yet when the boys had come back quietly from a baseball game. Her eyes fell upon the clock and she looked up at her son worriedly.

"What's happened to the boys?"

"I don't know. They should have been back long before now and they're not answering when I call them. I'm going to drive out to the stadium. There's only one route they could take so I should meet up with them."

"They'll probably be back any moment," she said without complete conviction.

"I hope so. And they'd better have a good explanation for being late and out of reach."

Nothing would have pleased Jeff more than to spend the next half hour in his study lecturing his boys for their lack of consideration whilst thinking up an appropriate punishment for Scott, who as the eldest and the driver, was ultimately responsible. But he had a nagging feeling that it wasn't going to be that simple. Something was very wrong.

"Call me if you hear from them," he said, promising his mother he'd do the same as he headed out into the night.

Ryan marched Virgil, Gordon and Alan down the corridor to a door marked _Staff Only_. Taking out a swipe card, he deactivated the lock and pushed them through. The door swung shut behind them and Virgil, desperately trying to concentrate on anything other than his own predicament, had time to register that although designed to keep members of the public out, anyone who gained entry to the staff areas didn't need a swipe card to get out – instead there was a big green button next to the door. He kept it in mind and tried to take in as much as he could of their surroundings whilst also keeping Gordon and Alan moving. They moved up two flights of stairs before Ryan swiped his way through another door and the boys found themselves in a short corridor. The lights were off and the only illumination came from the moonlight shining through a small window halfway down the corridor. Ryan stopped them at a door just opposite the window. Virgil watched as he unhooked a bunch of keys from his belt and began to search through them. He briefly considered making a run for it whilst Ryan was distracted, but knew it would be hopeless with Gordon and Alan in tow. He didn't think Ryan would shoot them, but he wasn't taking any chances with his brothers.

Finally finding the right key, which he detatched from the rest before placing it into the keyhole, Ryan opened the door and watched as they made their way inside. The room was dark, but the strong smell of bleach and polish told them straightaway that it was the cleaner's storeroom. Ryan reached to one side and turned on a light, much to Virgil's relief. Alan was quiet for now, but he could imagine the effect being locked up in the dark would have on him. He looked around at the small, windowless room as Ryan closed the door and turned the key in the lock, hearing the sound of his footsteps fading as he walked away. Finally they were alone and he turned to look at his brothers. Gordon and Alan were staring back at him and the knowledge that they were depending on him gave Virgil the strength to overcome his fears. The look of panic in Gordon's eyes gave his feelings away, though he was doing a valiant job of pretending otherwise. Alan simply crumpled to the floor in fear and exhaustion and began to cry. Virgil went over to him and hugged him, trying to cheer him up as he said with a conviction he didn't feel,

"Come on, Al, we'll get out of here. I've done this before, remember."

"You ended up in hospital," Gordon pointed out and Virgil could have killed him. He was just thankful his brother didn't add _"and it turned you into a nervous wreck!" _as Alan just cried more loudly.

"Well not this time," Virgil said, surprised by how confident he sounded when inside he was terrified. "Right, the first thing is to get out of here. Any ideas?"

He coughed as the thick, fume-filled air tickled his throat. He looked around at the various pieces of equipment and the shelves full of chemicals and cleaning implements. Surely there must be something he could use to get them out of there. Gordon came over to him, leaving Alan curled up in a sleepy ball on the floor. He was half asleep already, Barclay cuddled tightly against his chest and Virgil was grateful that the crying had finally stopped.

"Virgil," Gordon said quietly, "We have to get out of here. Can you pick the lock?"

"Sorry, Gords, I wouldn't know how. I don't even know if he's left the key in there."

"If he has we could push it out couldn't we?" Gordon was currently obsessed with detective stories and considered himself an expert in this kind of thing.

"But there's no space to slide it through. Even if we pushed the key out of the lock, there's no way of getting it this side of the door. We could try taking the lock apart, I suppose, but even then, I don't see how we could get out." He turned and looked back at the door again, then, to Gordon's surprise, began to laugh.

"What?" Gordon asked. Then he saw it too: in the wall over the top of the door was a vent, obviously intended to allow some clear air to circulate through the store room, though it was too small to do a particularly good job. It was certainly too small to allow himself or Virgil to get through, but Alan might - just -manage it.

Virgil bent down to the key hole and peered through.

"I think the key's there – I can't see any light shining through." He straightened up, casting a glance at the sleeping Alan. "Come on, Gordy, see if you can find a screwdriver or anything with a blade small enough to fit those screws."

Gordon looked across at his younger brother too, before moving to help Virgil, glad of something to do.

"What if they come back?" he asked. There was no question in his mind that they had to try to escape, but the thought of sending his baby brother out there alone terrified him. What if Ryan or one of the others came back? What if the key wasn't there and Alan was trapped the other side of the door? The risks were high, but he realised that there was no other choice.

"There's no other way out of here," Virgil said, the strain showing in his voice, and Gordon knew that Virgil was just as scared as he was.

Their luck was finally in as Gordon found a selection of tools on a shelf. Virgil dragged a couple of boxes over to the door and climbed up on them, balancing precariously as he reached for the screws. It was a fairly quick job to get the vent grille off their side and a hard shove on the one on the other side of the door sent it clattering to the floor. Virgil nearly overbalanced and fell, but managed to grab hold of the door frame, the boxes finally steadying enough for him to jump down safely. They held their breath waiting to see if the noise of the falling grille had alerted anyone, but after a minute of silence it seemed that they were safe.

Virgil hated to wake his brother – Alan looked peaceful for the first time since their capture – but it had to be done.

"Hey, Allie, can you wake up?" he whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. Tired blue eyes looked dazedly up at him for a moment before he registered his surroundings and a flicker of distress crossed his face.

"It's alright," Virgil said, feeling guilty, wishing he didn't have to put his seven year old brother in this position. "Look! Gordon and I have been busy. We've got a way out of here."

Alan looked at the hole where the vent had been, then looked back at his brother. Virgil continued,

"We're going to be out of here in just a minute, but we need your help, Al. What do you think?"

Alan looked at the hole then at his brothers, obviously comparing sizes. A fearful look came over his face as he realised just what Virgil was asking him to do. As much as he wanted to get out of there, at least in this room there were no men with guns. He just wanted to stay with his brothers where he felt safe.

"Come on, Al," Virgil said, seeing his brother's hesitation. "Gordy and I are too big. You're the only one who can help us. All you've got to do is get through there and open the door for us. You can do that, can't you?"

"Scared," Alan whispered, turning away and burying his face in Barclay's furry body.

"I know, Al, really I do," Virgil said, "But Scott and John need our help. If we can't get away and call the police anything could happen to them."

"Or us," Gordon said, with a tremor of fear in his voice. "We don't know what they're going to do with us."

Alan sighed. Maybe this room wasn't so safe after all.

"It's not very big," he said, looking at the hole.

"Neither are you," Virgil smiled, helping his brother to his feet.

Virgil climbed back up onto the boxes and Gordon helped Alan up to join him.

"You okay?" Virgil asked as he found his balance ready to lift his brother. It would have been easier for Alan to go head first but it would be a long drop down to the floor, so Virgil planned to send him feet first, hoping that Alan could let himself hang down as far as possible before dropping to the ground. It wasn't going to be easy though. Gordon dragged another box to the door and stood on it, hanging onto Virgil's waist in order to steady his brother.

""Virg," Alan whispered. "What if those men are outside?"

"They're not, Al," his brother reassured him. "They're downstairs getting the money and whatever else it is they want John to help carry. If you're quick we can be out of here long before they come back."

"Okay," Alan said, an expression of determination on his face. Virgil hugged him, then, bracing himself, lifted him and guided him towards the hole where the vent had been. It took a bit of manoeuvring and Virgil nearly overbalanced, but finally Alan was through. Virgil jumped down and waited with Gordon at the door.

They heard a heavy thud as their brother landed on the floor.

"Alan?" Virgil called anxiously.

"Al?" Gordon was equally concerned.

"I'm okay," came the breathless response.

"Can you get us out?" Virgil asked.

There was a click as the key turned and suddenly the door was open. Alan stood there, rubbing his knee, but with an expression of pure delight on his face.

"Good work, Al," Gordon praised him.

"Right, let's get out of here, or at least find a phone." Virgil wanted to get moving. The last time he'd tried to escape from captivity the consequences of being discovered had been decidedly painful and he didn't want any repetition.

They began to move along the corridor when suddenly Alan stopped and ran back into the store room.

"What?" Gordon looked on in disbelief as Alan returned clutching Barclay.

"You know that bear is responsible for getting us into this, don't you?" Gordon muttered to Virgil. "First chance I get it's getting incinerated."

Virgil said nothing.

It became clear that the corridor wasn't going to offer much in the way of escape. The only other door needed a key to open it. It looked as if they were going to have to go back the way they came - down the stairs and right back to where the three men might be waiting. Virgil told Alan and Gordon to wait a little way behind then crept quietly up to the door. Pressing the button which unlocked it, he pushed it open just a fraction. When all was quiet he pushed it open a little more and stuck his head out. He could see a shaft of light at the bottom of the door at the foot of the stairs, but all seemed well. He was just about to call his brothers over when he heard muffled voices and the light was suddenly broken by a shadow. He quickly but quietly shut the door and leaned against it, his heart pounding. Gordon and Alan were looking at him anxiously and he forced a smile.

"Right, they're still downstairs so we can't go that way."

"But that's the only way," Gordon pointed out, a tremor in his voice. He'd been so brave, but it was getting too much.

Virgil desperately looked around, hoping for inspiration. He was aware that time was running out – for all of them. His gaze fell upon the window. He'd looked through it earlier, wondering if there was any way of calling for help, but it just looked out onto a small, empty parking lot. He'd turned away, abandoning it as a means of escape even though it would be easy enough to open since it was just secured with a simple latch - probably because it was impossible to gain access to – or escape from - the second floor.

Then a thought struck him. It was his turn to dart back into the storeroom, returning a moment later pushing one of the large floor polishing machines which had been stored there. Manoeuvring it next to the window, he disappeared again before returning with a second one.

"What's that for?" Gordon asked, then realisation dawned as Virgil began to pull out the leads. "No, Virg, you've got to be kidding."

"Don't worry, it'll be strong enough," Virgil said, twisting the two leads together. "Okay, Gordy, you're going first.

"No way," his brother said, looking down at the impossibly long drop. Alan just backed up against the wall, eyes wide with terror. He'd had enough drama for one day.

"You've got to go first to help Alan. Come on, it'll be fine. I'll just tie this around your waist..."

"Get off!" Gordon backed away.

"Listen, Gordon," Virgil tried not to let his frustration show. "We've got to get help and quickly. Scott's hurt and John's relying on us."

Gordon looked at his brother, the fight going out of him. Put him on the high dive board and he wouldn't give the distance a thought, but the fact that solid concrete rather than water lay below him made all the difference.

"Come on, Gordy," Virgil whispered. "Do you want me to send Alan down first?" Yep, he thought with satisfaction as Gordon defiantly began to wrap the leads around his waist, the prospect of being shown up by his baby brother worked wonders. He should know - he'd experienced that particular humiliation enough himself over the past year.

Gordon wasn't quite tall enough to get himself through the window, so Virgil got one of the boxes he'd stood on when he'd got Alan through the vent. He helped his brother climb onto the box then onto the window sill and then took up the slack of the leads.

"Okay, remember, as soon as you get to the bottom untie yourself and I'll get Alan down next. Keep out of sight until we're all down, just in case."

At another time and in another place, Gordon might have enjoyed the experience. He usually thrived on the wild and dangerous. But being lowered thirty feet to the ground at the mercy of a couple of electric cables and a not-quite thirteen year old brother whilst facing the possibility of becoming target practice for Ryan and his friends wasn't his idea of fun. He was thankful when he reached the ground. He quickly untied himself and watched as Virgil pulled the leads back up. Flattening himself against the wall he looked around. Everything seemed quiet and there was no sign of a van. Wherever the others were, it seemed they were using a different entrance.

He looked up when he heard a scraping noise above him. It was Alan, hanging onto the window frame for dear life as Virgil seemed to be trying to persuade him to let go. He moved out so that his brother could see him.

"Hey, Al!" he called quietly. "Come on, you'll love it. And you'll soon be free."

Alan finally seemed to be persuaded - or maybe Virgil had just run out of patience and prised his fingers away - because he was suddenly hanging in mid-air. Virgil slowly lowered him down and Gordon reached up for him, guiding him to the ground.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Gordon asked as he untied his shaking brother. "Maybe we can try it again when we get home."

The mention of home set Alan whimpering again.

"Come on, we've just got to wait for Virgil to get down and we can get going. Five minutes and we'll be safe and sound and the police will be on their way. We can call Dad and he'll be out to get us. It won't be long."

He glanced up, wondering why Virgil hadn't yet begun to climb down.

Virgil sat on the floor beside the window, relieved that his brothers were safe and sound. His back, arms and shoulders ached with the strain of lowering them down to the ground and he took a moment to stretch. Now he just had to get himself down, get them somewhere safe and call the police. Call Dad too – and let him know his boys were in trouble again. He hated to think what that would do to him. Then he would just have to wait, not knowing what was happening to Scott or John, hoping that help would arrive in time. He wondered how long it would take for the police to arrive and whether his brothers had that long left. He stood up and looked out of the window at Alan and Gordon below. His foot caught something as he did so. It was Barclay. He picked up the bear and stared at it, remembering Gordon's comment about the bear being the cause of their predicament. The incinerator seemed like a fair punishment and he might have been tempted to light the first match himself, but a terrible feeling suddenly gripped him. It wasn't Barclay's fault at all, he thought, it was his. He'd made John buy the stupid bear; he'd been the one to talk Scott into coming back to the stadium to look for him. It was all down to him. His brothers were going to suffer just as he had done and this time he was responsible. Staring at the bear, guilt and anguish almost overwhelming him, he suddenly knew what he had to do.

"Come on, then, Virg," Gordon called as loudly as he dared as his brother finally appeared at the window.

With trembling hands, Virgil began to pull the leads back up.

"Virg, what are you doing? I thought you were going to leave them hanging and climb down."

Virgil drew in a deep breath to calm himself before he replied.

"Change of plan, Gords. Get help. Look, there's a phone booth over there. Call the police and stay safe and out of sight. I can't just leave the others. I might be able to help them."

"_Virgil! No!" _

The horror in Gordon's voice was evident. He couldn't believe his brother was even contemplating this. Surely after all he'd been through and the effect it had had on him, he wasn't going to voluntarily put himself in danger once again. If anything, he'd expected Virgil to crack once they were safely out of the building, once the immediate need to take care of his brothers was over.

"_Virgil!"_

Alan's shrill cry was immediately silenced by Gordon's hand across his mouth, but his brother's wide-eyed look of panic still wasn't enough to break Virgil's resolve.

"Go, quickly," he hissed at them. "I'll be okay. Gordon, go on, get Alan somewhere safe. Here-"

He threw Barclay down to them. Gordon would have happily kicked him away, but Alan grabbed him joyfully.

"Go on," Virgil said. "It'll be okay." He forced himself to smile.

Gordon looked at his brother for a minute, then reluctantly began to pull Alan away. He didn't want the responsibility of getting help and taking care of his younger brother, but he could see he had no choice. Virgil watched for a moment as they moved towards the phone booth. He hated to see his younger brothers alone, out in the dark, but Scott and John needed him more. As he watched Gordon and Alan's figures move away he thought how vulnerable they looked. But at least they were out of the building and away from their captors.

Getting his feet moving was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Virgil had no inkling of what the future held, but in years to come he would never need to draw upon such deep reserves of courage and determination as he did the moment he started walking back to the door. But he'd really had no choice. However scared he might be – and right now he was beyond terrified - he couldn't leave Scott hurt and John in danger. He made it to the door before being overcome with panic and for a moment he looked longingly back at the window. Then, taking a deep breath and running through every coping technique he'd learned – before deciding that none of them were appropriate since he was deliberately putting himself into very real danger – he opened the door. This time he stepped through, closing it silently behind him. He heard the lock click into place and knew there was no going back.

His legs were shaking as he moved slowly and quietly down the stairs. When he reached the ground floor and stood outside the door which would take him back out into the main corridor he paused. There was silence from the other side. Maybe the corridor was empty, or maybe they'd heard him and were waiting for him. Either way there was no alternative, he had to get moving.

He pushed the lock release button with shaking hands and held his breath as the lock clicked open. There was still no sound from the other side so he pushed it open just a fraction. Still he heard nothing; though with the way his heart was pounding he thought he wouldn't hear anything anyway. He opened it a little more, poked his head through and took a quick look to the left then the right. It was clear and he slipped through the door and let it snap shut behind him. Now he had to find Scott. He didn't think he could do much to help John, who would be watched by the three men, but Scott was most likely unguarded. If only he had recovered then the two of them would surely be able to help John.

Continually glancing behind him and moving as quietly as he could, Virgil slipped along the corridor and back to the lobby.

Meanwhile, Gordon and Alan had reached the phone booth. Relieved that he was just a few seconds from summoning help for his three brothers, Gordon picked up the receiver then suddenly let out a howl of dismay, startling Alan who looked up at him in bewilderment. The line was dead. Now what was he supposed to do? He looked around, wondering where there might be more phones. There were some near the main entrance, he knew, but they would run too high a risk of being seen and he didn't want to be captured again. There was nothing for it but to head off down the street and hope they came across somewhere with a phone. He wasn't sure how much luck they would have as he looked around wondering which way to go. It was very quiet – the stadium was on the outskirts of town and once the game was over the area quickly became deserted.

Gordon was thoughtful as they hurried along as quickly as he could make Alan move – he couldn't believe Virgil had stayed in the building. Part of him was impressed that he could bring himself to do it after everything that had happened to him, but another part of him was furious that his brother had left him with the responsibility for Alan and for getting help, though he couldn't blame Virgil for the phone being out of use. _That bear's brought nothing but bad luck_, he thought, comforting himself with various plans for its destruction. Alan was quiet, unnerved by the unfamiliar streets and he clutched Barclay tightly, unaware of the hatred his brother nurtured towards his bear.

Turning a corner they saw a neon sign. The bar it indicated looked pretty rundown and uninviting, but there had to be a phone there. Gordon wasn't too sure about it – it looked like the kind of place where Ryan, Mitch and Carl would feel at home and he worried they might have friends there, but he had no option. They'd been too long already and who knew what trouble Virgil might have gotten himself into. Clutching Alan's hand more firmly, he urged his brother forward.

Alan froze as they approached. The sound of muffled rock music could be heard and as the door opened and a man and a woman left, the intensity of the volume became apparent. A haze of smoke and beer fumes clung to the couple as they walked past, too wrapped up in each other to notice the two young boys who gazed at them in trepidation. Leather, piercings and tattoos really weren't the kind of things the two youngest Tracy boys were particularly comfortable with, and Alan began to whimper again.

"Come on, Al," Gordon whispered. "The boys are depending on us." Fearfully they walked towards the door.

John had never felt so frustrated and – though he hated to admit it - scared. Though not such an avid sportsman as his brothers, he was still fit and strong, but fifteen minutes of lugging computers and baseball equipment around the stadium and into the van was more than enough. He'd moved as slowly as he could, wanting to buy as much time as possible, hoping that Scott would wake up and be able to untie himself or that Virgil and the younger boys could find a way to escape. From the conversations he'd overheard, the three were still undecided about what to do next. Ryan favoured leaving the boys unharmed and skipping town that night, using his share of the takings to make a fresh start elsewhere, but Mitch was unconvinced. He didn't like the idea of leaving witnesses or of having to leave his home and family. He was making a pretty convincing argument for getting rid of all the boys, or at least taking one along with them for security. Carl hadn't yet decided either way. But time was running out and the decision would have to be made soon - the van was nearly full.


	8. Chapter 8

_So much angst and trauma... and that's just the week I've had! Serves me right for tormenting the boys! Thanks so much for the reviews - they're really valued and appreciated. Bee_

Chapter Eight

Virgil slipped cautiously back into the silent lobby. The only light came from the moonlight shining in through the glass doors but it was enough to show him that there was no one in sight. He jumped quickly over the ticket desk, desperate to find out what had happened to Scott. There was even less light there, but he could make out two figures lying on the ground. To Virgil's heartfelt relief the smaller of the two was moving - though with a distinct lack of co-ordination, even allowing for a head injury and the restrictions of the bonds - but the other lay ominously still, the harsh rasp of his breathing indicating he was in trouble. Virgil knelt beside him and began to work on the knot which held the gag. When he finally freed it Jim's breathing immediately eased and Virgil almost cried with relief. Pushing aside the sickening image of Mike Donovan's bloodstained body which kept flashing through his head, Virgil left Jim and crawled to Scott's side.

"_Scott?" _he whispered, managing to roll Scott over onto his back and patting his face gently_. "Can you hear me? It's me, Virgil."_

Scott flinched away, groaned something unintelligible, then cracked open one eye. He immediately regretted it as even the dim light offered by the moon set off waves of dizziness.

Virgil was working on the knot which held the gag in place. Finally he loosened it and pulled it off.

"Scott?"

"Mm...Virg? 'Zat you?"

Virgil smiled down at him, relieved that his brother was at least semi-coherent.

"Yeah, it's me. You'll be okay, Scott, I'll get you out of here."

He started on the ropes which tied Scott's hands, but the knots were proving more resistant than those of the gag so he left his brother for a moment to search around in the cupboards and drawers until he came across a pair of scissors.

"Give me a minute Scott and I'll get these ropes off you."

Scott looked up at him with a little more focus than before. He blinked for a moment, wondering just why he was lying uncomfortably on the floor with Virgil kneeling beside him wielding a pair of scissors. Suddenly his body jerked violently with shock as he remembered what had happened. Jim had been attacked and knocked out - and so had he, judging by the headache. Virgil was obviously okay, but then...

"_John?"_ he shouted and Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth muffling the sound of his other brothers' names.

"_Shut up!" _he whispered frantically. "_They'll hear you."_

The effort of shouting set off a pounding headache and Scott lay back, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his churning stomach. Everything was blurry and it took a real effort for him to keep his eyes open.

"Wha's going on?" Scott whispered weakly as Virgil began attacking the ropes with the scissors. They were only intended for paper so it was a frustratingly slow process but it gave Virgil time to fill Scott in on what had happened. Scott was silent as he tried to take it all in, though he let out an angry growl when he learned of Ryan's involvement. Virgil broke through the last of the ropes which bound his brother's arms just as he finished his story, though any relief he felt was lost as Scott tried to sit up then flopped back down with a groan as the change in level set his head spinning again. Virgil started on the ropes binding Scott's legs, wondering if he was really going to be able to get his brother out. One thing he was sure of, Scott would be no help in rescuing John.

"Should've gone with the boys," Scott said slowly - the effort of thinking hurt.

"I couldn't leave you and John. I didn't know how badly you were hurt and..."

"Virg, y'r crazy. Leave me, go 'way."

"It was my fault," Virgil whispered, unable to meet his brother's eye. "I had to stay."

"Huh?" Scott stared at him, now even more confused.

"I made you come back to look for Alan's bear. And if it hadn't been for me John wouldn't have bought it in the first place. I couldn't run away and leave you two behind."

Scott shook his head –and regretted it.

"Damn bear," he managed finally. He'd talk it through with Virgil when he could think straight. It was all too much right now. Trying to put a sentence together was beyond him and he took a few more deep breaths, fighting the dizziness which threatened to send him back to oblivion.

Virgil finished cutting through the rope and looked at his brother worriedly. There was no way he could cope with Scott like this and still have any chance of helping John. He felt sick with worry as he thought about the likely fate of his brother and he forced himself to return his focus to Scott.

"Can you get up? We need to get out of here before they come back. "

Scott groaned, unwilling to try the challenge of a move to vertical.

Virgil bit his lip in frustration. He kept expecting one of the men to turn up at any moment to check on their captives. They might even have discovered that the store room upstairs was empty and be on their way to the lobby. He had to get Scott away. There was only one thing he could think of to get Scott moving, though he had no intention of actually doing what he was going to suggest, as desperately as he wanted to. There was brave, there was reckless and then there was suicidal – he knew where to draw the line. He just needed to get Scott on his feet and outside where it was safe.

"John's still in trouble. We need to help him, Scott."

That got through the haze. Scott's tired brain couldn't process much but worry for his brother cut through.

"'Kay," he groaned, managing to get onto his hands and knees and hoping he wasn't going to throw up. His head cleared a little and with Virgil's help he made it onto his feet. His legs didn't seem to support him as well as they usually did, though, and he wobbled precariously for a moment, leaning heavily on his brother.

"That's good, Scott. Come on, let's get moving." Virgil watched anxiously as Scott's eyes began to drift closed and he shook his brother frantically. "No, come on, Scotty, you can sleep later."

Half dragging his brother – and knowing he wasn't going to be able to support him for too long - Virgil got Scott moving, though it seemed like he was sleep-walking. Keeping up a quiet one-sided conversation he tried to keep his brother awake.

"Okay, Scott, let's just get you out of here shall we? I don't think we can do much for John right now, not with you in this state. We won't go chasing after the bad guys – the police will be here soon and we'll leave it to them. John will be fine, you'll see. Just trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing. You might be the eldest but I've got all the experience of being locked up and escaping and sneaking around. Just keep moving and do what I tell you – for once. You'll be okay."

Once again, the words were laced with a positivity he didn't feel.

He got Scott out from around the desk then leaned him up against it whilst he went over to the main doors. Through the glass he could see Scott's car. It was all so frustratingly close, but the doors were locked. Returning to Jim he searched him for his keys, but it looked as if the others had taken them. His swipe card was still there though and Virgil took it, thinking it might come in useful. With a last, longing look at the unattainable freedom of the outside world, he turned back to his brother and forced a smile.

"Come on, Scott, we have to find another exit."

* * *

Charlie's Bar was quiet that night – at least in terms of the number of patrons. The noise from the jukebox however was anything but quiet – and Gordon and Alan were no strangers to noise, living in a house of five brothers. As Gordon pushed the door open he fought a moment of panic. Alan darted behind him, though he kept a tight hold on his brother's hand and nearly wrenched Gordon's arm out of its socket.

"Ow!" Gordon gasped, then looked up and realised just why his brother was hiding behind him. A large man stood in front of him, staring bemusedly down at the two boys. The piercings through his nose, lip and eyebrow twinkled as the light caught them, but that was the only remotely pretty thing about him. He frowned in confusion at the pair.

"Okay, boys," he said slowly. "I'm guessing you two have got a good reason for being here?"

_Oh yes_, thought Gordon, _a really good reason_, but for once in his life he was having trouble getting his words out. It was Alan who broke, bursting into tears and pouring out a muddled version of the night's events. It was clear the man couldn't understand most of it and he bent down to listen more closely, causing Alan to hide behind Gordon once again. Gordon began his own hesitant explanation, looking around for a phone as he did so and realising that everyone in the bar had turned to stare at them. Suddenly someone turned the music off and the only sound left was that of Gordon's voice, which trailed off in surprise.

"Okay, start again," the man said and the unexpected gentleness of his voice gave the boys hope. Alan began to ramble again, something about bears, guns and floor polishers, but was rewarded only with confused expressions. Shushing his brother then taking a deep breath, Gordon finally gave him the - vaguely - coherent version,

"We were at the stadium... with our brothers... we went back for the bear but there were these men with guns and Scott got knocked out. They took Johnny away to help them carry stuff but we got put in this room and Virgil got us out except he wouldn't come out of the window. Then the phone wouldn't work. So we have to get the police. And call Dad 'cos he's going to be mad that we're so late."

Well, it made a little more sense than Alan's version and the buzz of consternation which followed suggested that they'd got the idea. Any fears Gordon had that the people in the bar might decide to lock them in another store room and head off to join in the fun themselves evaporated as the man went to the phone and dialled 911. A woman, equally unconventionally pierced and tattooed, ushered the boys over to some chairs whilst the bartender brought them each a coke. Gordon listened to the one-sided telephone conversation, glad that the police were finally on their way. Eventually the man beckoned him over and handed him the receiver and this time he managed a more complete version of the night's adventure.

When a relieved Gordon finally put the phone down and turned back to his brother, Alan was introducing Barclay to some of the women, who were obviously enraptured with the little boy.

"You did well, kid," said the man, who introduced himself as Charlie, the owner. "How about you call your Dad now before the police do it and give him a heart attack? Let him know you two are safe."

_Yeah_, Gordon thought, picking up the phone with shaking hands, _but two out of five isn't exactly good news._ It wasn't fair, he thought. He was only ten; he shouldn't have to be breaking news like this to his father. How on earth was he going to tell him? He'd been bad enough last year when it was just Virgil. Gordon's thoughts turned back to his brothers - he just hoped they were all okay.

Jeff almost swerved across the road in surprise when his phone rang. Stupid really, as he'd been willing it to ring ever since leaving the house, but he'd worked himself up into such a state of anxiety that he'd convinced himself it never would. Hitting the brakes he got himself under control, then answered a number he didn't recognise, praying it was good news, gloomily certain it was bad.

"Dad?"

Jeff knew straight away something was wrong. Gordon's usual cheery voice was uncertain and shaky.

"_Gordon_! What's going on? Where are you?"

At the sound of his father's voice, Gordon almost burst into tears. "_Dad_... "

"Gordon? Tell me what's wrong, son."

Um, Dad, we uh, we got into a bit of trouble."

"Trouble?" Jeff asked, his voice grim. "Tell me."

So Gordon did.

Jeff's hand shook as he held the phone to his ear. _Three _sons in trouble? How on earth did his family manage to get into situations like this? Concern for Scott and John fought with total incomprehension over Virgil's behaviour. The bus ride paled into insignificance compared with this. Reckless? Brave? He didn't know what to think. For Virgil to deliberately put himself in danger to rescue his brothers after the trauma of the summer and the terrible reaction which had followed... The pride Jeff felt in his son was immeasurable. The fear he felt for all three of his eldest was even greater.

* * *

John loaded the last case of baseball equipment into the van just as Ryan returned with two large, heavy holdalls. They were in a delivery bay at the back of the stadium, the van backed into the building and the shutter doors closed. A small side door stood open, but John had no way of getting through it so long as Mitch was standing there looking out into the empty car park.

"Got the cash?" Mitch asked, pushing the door shut and turning to face Ryan.

"All here. I told you it would be easy to hide a few cash bags when I was taking them up to the safe after the game."

"That's been the only easy thing about this," grumbled Carl with a glare in John's direction. "We can't exactly go with our original plan and leave you tied up as if you'd been attacked too."

"So what _are _we going to do?" Ryan put the bags into the van and slammed the doors shut. The sound struck an anxious note in John – now there could be no more delay. What had they decided? He wondered once again whether or not to try to talk to them. He had a fair amount of confidence in his abilities despite his youth, but then he remembered hearing enough about Mitch at school to know that the only negotiation he understood involved debating whether to break your nose or your jaw. He had a feeling that his arguments would just be wasted and he was scared of making a bad situation even worse.

"I say we make a run for it."

Mitch eyed Carl angrily. "No! I've already told you I'm not leaving here. Give up everything just for a few kids? My share of this lot won't be enough for a new life somewhere else."

"There's _five_ of them, Mitch," Carl pointed out. "You can't seriously be considering killing all of them."

Ryan agreed and Mitch slammed his fist into the van door. John edged away, fearing that he'd be the next thing to feel the force of those knuckles.

"We'd better get a move on!" Carl exclaimed with a quick look at his watch as he moved to press the button which raised the shutter doors. "Someone's going to be wondering where these guys are. We need to get away before anyone comes looking."

"What about this one?" Mitch indicated John.

"Tie him up and leave him," Ryan said.

Reaching into the van Mitch found more rope and ordered John to put his hands behind his back. Itching to kick out at his captor, John did as he was told, just glad that it would all soon be over. He wasn't sure how long it would take for help to arrive, but Carl was right – Dad and Grandma would surely be looking for them by now. He looked longingly through the half-open door, wishing he was safely outside.

Mitch pulled the rope savagely tight, obviously working out his frustrations on the knots. Then he pushed him to the floor, preparing to tie his legs. A startled cry from Ryan made him drop the rope and turn to the nearly open door. In the distance he could see flashing lights – police cars - headed their way. If they drove out now they'd run straight into them - and the van, heavily laden as it was, was never going to outrun them.

"Get that door shut!" he hissed, dragging John to his feet. Ryan hit the stop button, then the one which closed the shutters. The door stopped moving upwards, then, with a shriek of complaint began to drop towards the floor. It was painfully slow, however, and the three men were all convinced that the first of the police cars would reach them before they were out of sight.

Finally the door clattered to a close and the three stood motionless for a moment, trying to regain their composure. Mitch pushed John back to the floor and went over to the others.

"Now what?"

They began a hurried discussion. Seeing that he was momentarily forgotten, John began to edge behind the van. As soon as he had put the vehicle between himself and the three men he struggled to his feet and headed for the entrance to the corridor as fast as he could. With his hands tied behind his back his balance was off, but he kept going, hoping he could outrun or outwit them. A furious cry from the delivery bay told him that his escape had been discovered and he put his head down and sprinted away as fast as he could. He wondered if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life as he heard the crack of a gunshot from behind him.

* * *

The wail of sirens in the distance didn't deter Jeff from putting his foot down as he headed to Charlie's. He knew they had more urgent business than stopping a speeding motorist. Anyway, he considered he had a pretty good excuse. The more he saw of this neighbourhood, the more he needed to get to his youngest sons and make sure that they at least were safe. He pulled up as close as he could to the bar, noting that a police car was already there. Approaching the door he felt completely out of place and wondered what on earth Gordon and Alan had made of all this.

"_Daddy!"_ Alan waved cheerily at him as he entered the bar. The seven year old was sitting on a barstool, a police hat jauntily perched on his head. The policeman standing next to him sheepishly removed the hat – to Alan's obvious disappointment – placing it back on his own head and lifting Alan off the stool so that he could be reunited with his father.

"Hey, Dad," Gordon said, an expression of utter relief crossing his face. He was trying desperately hard to stop himself from crying at the sight of his father. Finally he felt safe.

Jeff hugged both of them for a long moment, reassuring himself that they were okay. Then he turned to the policeman.

"Any news of the others?" There was just the slightest tremor in his voice.

"Not yet, Mr Tracy. I'll let you know as soon as anything comes through."

Jeff looked back at Gordon and Alan. He really needed a full account of the night's events, so Gordon, with occasional help from Alan, told his story once more, this time in much more detail. A sick, cold feeling of fear and fury shot through him as he heard how Scott had been knocked out and John taken away to 'help' the three robbers. But he already knew about these two. It was the full details of the youngest boys' escape which he really wanted to hear and by the end of it, the thought of his boys dangling from a second floor window reliant only on Virgil's strength and a couple of electric cables left him pale.

"Here, you look like you could use a drink," Charlie said, handing him a glass.

"Thanks." Jeff took it gratefully. "And thanks for taking care of these two," he added. He guessed that if he'd ever met Charlie in the street he'd probably have given him a wide berth and kept his hand firmly on his wallet, but Charlie's concern for his boys made him feel guilty for ever thinking such a thing.

"No problem, glad I could help. I guess this isn't the kind of place you'd want your boys to be visiting, though." Charlie's grin suggested he'd guessed exactly what Jeff had been thinking.

"I just can't believe Virgil would let them wander around an area like this on their own," Jeff mused. "However much he wanted to help the others he must have realised the danger he was putting these two in." The thought that his boys might have fallen into the hands of someone lacking Charlie's good nature still had him rattled.

"Dad, it wasn't his fault." Gordon jumped in, quick to defend his brother. Okay, he'd thought exactly the same thing at the time, but now that everything had turned out well his anger had dissolved and he was left with only a real appreciation of Virgil's courage.

"He couldn't have known the phone wasn't working and we didn't want to hang around the stadium to find another one. We had to come down here. Dad, Virgil's been really brave. I could see how scared he was when we first got caught, but he got us out and he just couldn't leave Scott and John."

"No, I guess he couldn't," Jeff agreed, wondering if he'd ever see any of his missing sons again and if so, how they'd deal with all of this. He wondered if he could just hire Antonia full time!

His musings were interrupted by something tickling the back of his neck.

"Look, Dad," Alan said brightly, pushing something furry into his face. "Say 'hello' to Barclay!"

Before Jeff could respond his phone began to ring. He jumped, nearly spilling his drink, then pulled out his phone, hoping it was one of the other boys. The police officers came over too, questioning looks on their faces.

Jeff's hopes faded as he saw the caller's name.

"My mother," he told the police, the disappointment clearly evident in his voice. He'd meant to call her earlier, but he just hadn't been able to make himself do it. He drew in a deep breath as he wondered how to break the news. He'd done this once before, when Virgil was taken. He couldn't believe that this time he would have to tell his mother that three of her grandsons were in danger.

"Jeff?" Grandma said anxiously as soon as he picked up the call. "Have you found them?"

"Not exactly. Mom, you'd better sit down."

"Why?" her voice was breathless with fear. "Jeff, what's happened?"

"Gordon and Alan are fine. They're here with me now. But the others... "

Unable to keep his voice from wavering, he explained what had happened. His heart sank further at every shocked exclamation and cry of fear from his mother. Then he handed the phone to Gordon, hoping that his son would be able to offer his grandmother some comfort, taking the opportunity to settle his own emotions. One of the policemen whispered an offer to send a car to fetch Grandma so that she could stay with Gordon and Alan whilst Jeff went over to the stadium and he accepted gratefully, taking the phone back to let his mother know what was going on. Then he sat back once more, reached again for his drink and swallowed it down in one.

* * *

Scott leaned against a wall. He was sounding more coherent now, but he was obviously still suffering from the effects of the knock on his head. Virgil was thankful for the rest himself – Scott was heavy and the strain of supporting his weight was beginning to tell. The younger boy was exhausted. They'd used Jim's swipe card to get themselves into the staff area, Virgil hoping to find another window, but all the ground floor windows seemed to be sealed shut for security. There hadn't been a door he could open without a key either, apart from a fire exit and he'd been reluctant to set off the alarms which he knew would go off as the door was opened, afraid that by doing so he'd scare Mitch and the others and so put John in even more danger.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking up anxiously at his brother. Scott looked so pale, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. The slightly glazed expression in his brother's eyes scared him and he put out both hands to steady him as Scott swayed slightly.

"Scott, you should sit down. You're not well."

"I'm fine," Scott grunted stubbornly, pushing himself upright only to nearly tip over on top of Virgil.

"No you're not. Don't be stupid. Wait here and I'll see if I can find a way out."

"_No!"_ he grabbed Virgil's jacket tightly. "You're not going anywhere by yourself!"

"Scott, it's only for a moment – I promise I won't go anywhere near them."

Scott stared at him in bewilderment, wondering just how Virgil was keeping himself together, then realised it was the same concern for his brothers which was making him ignore his own aching head and the sick feeling in his stomach.

"What about Johnny?" he asked weakly.

Virgil looked away guiltily. He'd been trying to concentrate on helping Scott - he didn't know what he could do to help John.

"I don't know. They've got guns, Scott. What can we do? Gordon will have called the police – we have to wait for them to turn up. It can't be much longer now."

Scott sank down onto the floor, exhausted. Virgil dropped to his knees beside him, trying to stay in control of his fears. He'd known Scott was hurt, but he'd hoped his brother would have been able to take charge and give him the reassurance he so desperately needed right now.

"Scott, just stay here, okay. There has to be a door we can get open. Just give me a minute."

Ignoring his brother's protests and disentangling the hands which clutched at his jacket he rose to his feet and, with the briefest of backward glances at his brother, headed off down the corridor, leaving Scott to try to process his jumbled thoughts.

Scott still couldn't quite believe Virgil had turned down the chance of freedom to help him. He just hoped his brother didn't run into any more trouble as he searched for a way out.

Suddenly the sound of a gunshot echoed down the corridor. A second later Virgil came running back, terror written all over his face. He threw himself at Scott and the elder boy held him close, feeling him trembling.

"What happened?"

"It wasn't me," Virgil gasped shakily. "It must be John. Scott, what are we going to do?"

"Let's get out of here," Scott said. "Can you help me up?"

Virgil got to his feet a little unsteadily and helped his brother up. Scott was more stable now, though he still needed Virgil to support him as he walked.

Virgil turned him to face back the way they'd come.

"They're down that way," he said, indicating the way they'd originally been headed. "We could have walked straight into them."

Suddenly Virgil froze for a moment, then started to push Scott along as fast as he could.

"What is it?" Scott asked anxiously.

"Someone's coming."

Now Scott too could hear running footsteps. He knew there was no way he could move fast enough to outrun them, he was utterly spent. All he could do was try to ensure his brother's safety.

"Leave me," he gasped.

"No!" Virgil grunted with the strain of trying to drag his much heavier brother along. He knew it was too late anyway – the footsteps were just behind them. Keeping a tight hold of Scott – for his own comfort as well as to support his brother - he turned resignedly towards his pursuer.

Scott registered that they were nearly level with a dark stairwell which seemed to lead down to the basement. As a shadow appeared at the corner of the corridor he did the only thing his tired brain could think of to save his brother.

"Sorry, Virg," he whispered, pushing his brother away then shoulder charging him towards the stairs.

Without even uttering a cry, so startled was he by Scott's actions, Virgil went crashing down the stairs, rolling painfully down to the bottom where he lay in a crumpled heap amongst a drift of drink cartons and food wrappers. Stunned and breathless, he could only lie there, trying to work out what had just happened.

Scott watched Virgil disappear into the darkness. In his befuddled state he'd shoved him a lot harder than he'd meant to and he hoped he hadn't hurt his brother. Between Virgil's broken wrist and Grandma's broken leg, the family hadn't had much luck when it came to walking away unscathed from falls down stairs. Staggering away from the stairwell he had only seconds to wait before he had company.

A body came hurtling around the corner and crashed straight into the eldest Tracy brother, sending both of them tumbling to the floor.

"_Scott?"_

"_John?"_

The two boys looked at each other in confusion for a moment, then John got himself back up onto his feet.

"Come on, they're right-"

"...behind you." Mitch finished the sentence for him, grabbing him around his waist and pointing the gun at his throat. He looked at Scott in disbelief.

"How the hell did you get yourself free?"

Scott dragged himself to his feet and glared at Mitch before swaying dizzily. Mitch pushed John over to his brother, the gun still trained on him.

"Get hold of him and get yourselves moving," he growled. "Back to the delivery bay, you know the way."

"You okay?" John asked as he helped Scott slowly back down the corridor. He suspected his younger brothers might have had a hand in freeing Scott – he just hoped they were well out of the way by now. He had a feeling things were going to get nasty.

* * *

Back in the delivery bay, Ryan and Carl were still trying to work out what to do next.

"You know we've got no chance of getting out of here, don't you?" Ryan said. "Maybe we should just give ourselves up. I mean, the longer we stay in here the worse it's going to be for us."

"You're probably right," said Carl. "But then do you really want to be sitting in a cell for the next ten years wondering if there was something you could have done to get yourself away?"

"Guess so," Ryan agreed. "So should I go and get the kids? If we need to split up we can take one hostage each."

"Okay," Carl agreed. "Make it quick, though. I won't be able to hold them off by myself if they decide to force their way in."

"There are a lot of entrances," Ryan said, jingling his keys. "All they need to do is get hold of one of the managers and pick up their keys. They'll have those doors open soon and then we've had it."

"You'd better hurry up then," Carl told him, turning back to watch the door.

Ryan bumped into Mitch and his captives a short distance away from the delivery bay. "Hurry up and get them back to Carl," he told him. "I'm going to get the others."

Scott tried not to give anything away in his expression as he pictured Ryan's reaction to finding his three brothers gone. That led him to wondering where Virgil was and he hoped his brother would have the sense to lie low. Otherwise he was just going to walk straight into Ryan.

* * *

Virgil had heard everything and the realisation that John and Scott were back in the hands of their captors had shattered him. What was he supposed to do now? How on earth could he help his brothers? He was twelve years old and all alone. He couldn't take on three armed men. The sound of the gunshot still echoed through his head, bringing back the awful memories of Mike's death. For the first time that night he felt utter despair and it took all his courage to get himself back onto his feet. As he climbed the stairs he thought about Scott's attempt to save him. His brother had given him the chance to escape and he knew that the only logical thing to do was to take it. There was no way he could do anything to help his brothers now. The situation was hopeless.

He stood in the corridor for a moment, staring miserably in the direction in which his brothers had been taken. He felt very young and very helpless – he hadn't felt like this since last summer and he'd thought he never would again. But then he'd never expected to be on the wrong side of a gun again either. It was all just too much and he felt himself slipping back into the depression which had overwhelmed him after his kidnapping.

Numbly he made his way back up to the open window with its makeshift rope. The guilt and shame he felt at running away and abandoning his brothers tore him apart, but he didn't see what else he could do. He headed slowly up the stairs to freedom, fighting back tears and feeling totally and utterly defeated.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks so much for all the reviews - they mean a lot and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Not so__ stressed this week - can't promise any let up for the boys just yet, though! _

Chapter Nine

Back at Charlie's, Jeff was still trying to come to terms with all that had happened. He couldn't stop thinking about Scott, John and Virgil, wondering just what they were going through and imagining all sorts of horrors. He took comfort in the knowledge that at least two of his boys were safe, gazing down fondly upon a sleepy Alan who had now snuggled up against his father, his bear held tightly in his arms. Jeff put an arm around each of his boys, pulling them close for comfort – his and theirs. They could be all he had left now. Keeping an anxious watch on the two policemen who stood in conference a short distance away, he wondered what was going on. The police had told him that the first of the squad cars had reached the stadium but had seen nothing suspicious so far. They would just have to wait for the area to be searched, which couldn't happen until they could gain access. More cars were on the way and when the stadium was surrounded, then the police could make their move. There were too many entrances and the building was simply too big for a few officers to deal with. It would have to be a carefully planned move inside.

The logic of the argument didn't make Jeff feel any easier about the time it was taking to get news of his boys. This feeling of helplessness was absolute torture. The waiting was the worst part, he thought, as his mind slipped back to the traumatic time when Virgil had been kidnapped. The horribly familiar feelings of loss and desperation were beginning to overwhelm him once more. He tried to hold onto the knowledge that Virgil had come back safe – if not sound – but he doubted he'd be so lucky a second time. Surely this last year with Virgil hadn't just been borrowed time? And even if Virgil made it out, what would his emotional state be, enduring something like this for a second time? Then there were his other boys to worry about too. It was all just too much.

He wished he could have another drink – in fact, he would have liked the whole bottle - anything to take away the fear and stress. Instead, he forced himself to keep talking, trying to convince Gordon that everything was going to be alright, all the time aware that he didn't really believe it himself. Alan was asleep and he was relieved that at least someone was being spared the worry. Checking his watch again, he wondered how much longer he'd have to wait before his mother arrived to take care of Gordon and Alan so that he could get himself over to the stadium. He needed to be near his other boys, to know exactly what was going on.

* * *

Virgil shuffled miserably down the corridor towards the open window. His heart told him to get back downstairs and help his brothers; his head told him that that was madness. He forced himself to think rationally and knew that he had no way of helping them now. There was nothing he could do. More than that, he felt uneasy about what he'd already done. Should he have even bothered to try to help Scott? If he'd left him alone he might still be safe in the lobby, ignored by his captors. Had he just made things worse?

He gazed hopelessly out of the window. He'd expected that the police would have arrived by now but there was no sign of them. Where was the help he was so desperate for? Had something happened to his younger brothers to stop them from getting to a phone? Had they been caught again? He felt suddenly sick, wondering if he'd put Gordon and Alan in more danger by sending them off alone. His thoughts drifted back to Scott and John. There was no question as to their fate – they were going to get taken away as hostages, maybe even killed, and he was just going to have to let it happen. It was all his fault. He choked back a sob as he picked up the cables and began to feed them through the window, preparing to get himself out and be safely reunited with his father. He'd have to live with the guilt, of course, knowing that he'd abandoned two, if not four of his brothers, and he knew that no amount of counselling would make things better if anything happened to them. His father would surely never forgive him - and he'd never forgive himself. Unconsciously twisting and untwisting the cables, he knew he should start to climb out. But he stayed where he was, just staring wretchedly out into the night.

Virgil was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the door at the end of the corridor click open. He was totally oblivious to the shaft of light which lit up the corridor as the door opened and a figure came through, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight of one of his captives free and about to escape.

Ryan froze as he took in the sight of Virgil standing at the window, about to make his escape. He was about to shout to him to stay put, then realised that the boy was just staring into space, apparently unaware of his presence. Taking his chance, he began to creep towards him, ready to grab him and drag him back to the delivery bay. He didn't know where the other two were – he assumed that they were already out of the building and had raised the alarm, which would explain the presence of the police – but at least he would have one more captive to bargain with.

Virgil still hadn't moved, the same miserable thoughts going round and round in his head. He felt so alone and helpless. The last time he'd felt like this was when he'd been held captive by the Redmans. But at least then he'd had the hope of eventually being reunited with his family. What did he have to look forward to now? He couldn't imagine life without Scott and the others. He remembered Scott telling him of the family's reaction to his kidnapping and the fear of never seeing him again.

"The house was too quiet," Scott had said. "Even before you were taken, when you were just away doing your art thing, it wasn't right. It wasn't the same when there were only four of us there. I couldn't have coped with that forever, Virg."

Virgil knew what he meant now – the prospect of a life with only two brothers for company – or, far, far worse, being left alone – was unbearable. He couldn't face that. The cables fell from his hand as he came to his decision. There would be no running away. Whatever the cost, he had to try to help his brothers. Scott would be angry that he'd given up the chance to escape, but then he knew Scott would have done exactly the same thing. He was terrified – but what else could he do? With a final wistful look out of the window, he turned back towards the door. It was only then that he became aware that he was not alone. Ryan was just a few feet away.

For a moment their eyes locked. Then a look of anger flashed across the older man's face and Virgil, already shaken by Ryan's sudden appearance, was suddenly transported back to the moment when Luke Redman had caught him trying to escape. He panicked. For a moment he considered throwing himself through the window, hoping that he could grab hold of the cables before he tumbled towards the ground. Then he realised that there was no time. Ryan would be able to grab him before he could get away. Backing away as Ryan launched himself at him, he stumbled backwards over something. Crushing the box which the younger boys had stood on in order to reach the window, he crashed to the floor with Ryan on top of him.

Ryan had the advantage of height and weight and Virgil could do nothing to fight him. For a moment he was too terrified to do anything. It looked as though history was going to repeat itself and he'd be a hostage once again. If only he hadn't wasted so much time feeling sorry for himself - he felt as much of a failure for allowing Ryan to capture him as he'd felt when he'd decided to make his escape. So much for helping his brothers, he thought, but at least they'd all be together now. Not wanting to think about what might happen to him, Virgil tried to think about something – anything - else. He realised he was pretty uncomfortable with Ryan still keeping him pinned down, and he knew he was going to have more bruises to add to the collection he'd received courtesy of Scott. He wasn't sure what he was lying on – whatever had been in the box, he supposed, but he was painfully aware of something digging into his back.

"Stay where you are," Ryan ordered as he stood up and drew his gun.

When he finally told Virgil to get up, the boy gratefully rolled over and started to get onto his hands and knees, relieved to no longer have whatever it was he'd been lying on – a can of polish, apparently – digging into his back.

"I suppose you got Scott free," Ryan said. "I'm surprised he could even walk - guess Mitch didn't hit him hard enough."

A flash of fury shot through Virgil at the memory of Scott, so weak and helpless. Not caring about the consequences, he reached for the canister which lay in front of him, twisting round and aiming it at Ryan.

Ryan let the gun drop to the floor and fell backwards with a scream of agony. Virgil was almost as surprised as the other man and he looked at Ryan in dismay as he clawed at his face, gasping for breath. He guessed that the polish he'd sprayed into Ryan's face had done some serious damage, but he couldn't help that. He hadn't had time to think about it - and even if he had done, he didn't think he would have done anything different. He decided that he'd better take the opportunity whilst he could. As Ryan rolled on the floor, his captive forgotten, Virgil made a grab for the keys which hung from his belt. Ryan didn't even notice, just continuing to whimper in pain.

"There's a basin in the room you put us in. You can wash your eyes out in there," Virgil said, wondering why he even cared.

Ryan managed to get himself onto his hands and knees but obviously had no idea of which direction to go. His face was red and his swollen eyes streamed and he was obviously focused on nothing more than relieving the agony he felt. Virgil pushed him in the direction of the store room, watched him crawl in and then slammed the door shut, quickly locking it. Then he sat with his back to the door, trying to get his heart rate and breathing under control. He was shaking, whether with shock or with triumph he wasn't sure. He'd done it – Ryan was out of the picture and he had the keys to the doors. It was another chance to get himself out – and let the police in when they arrived - but where would that leave his brothers? At least now there were only two men holding them captive – their chances had to be better. Could he really do anything to help them? He knew that overpowering Ryan had been a chance in a million, he couldn't be so lucky again. What was he going to do? They were armed and they had nothing to lose. Then he caught his breath at the sight of something lying on the ground and he stared at it for a long time, conflicting thoughts rushing through his head – it was Ryan's gun.

Twice he reached out for the gun before snatching his hand back as if he'd been burned. He didn't want to touch it – he knew just what it could do, he'd had nightmares about it for months. But it was the one thing which would help him save his brothers...

Finally he got a finger to it, a shiver running through him at the coldness of the metal. His hand closed around the barrel and he lifted it, holding it at arm's length, just staring at it. He pictured himself marching down to the delivery bay, buoyed with the confidence the weapon would give him, taking out Mitch and Carl with a couple of well-aimed shots, watching coldly as they crashed to the floor and the blood began to slowly pool around them.

Then the flashback hit him and all thoughts of shooting Carl and Mitch were lost – suddenly he was right back at the scene of his kidnapping, reliving the last moments of Mike Donovan's life. He could hear the sound the bullet had made as it tore through Mike's flesh... feel the warm spatter of blood which had hit his arm... hear the thud of Mike's body hitting the ground... see him shuddering violently for a moment then falling still... Virgil could feel the panic and shock start to take over again.

With a cry he dragged himself back to a reality which was no less terrifying. Then he hurled the gun away with all the strength he could find. It clattered to the ground and skidded away. Virgil sat there for a few minutes, shivering violently, wondering if he'd done the right thing. But it was the only thing as far as he was concerned. It was no good - he just couldn't bring himself to carry the gun. He couldn't leave either. He came to his decision – even if it meant facing two armed men, he was going to try to help his brothers. Despite the feeling that he was probably crazy, the decision brought a comforting measure of relief.

Slowly he got to his feet, forcing himself to head towards the door. If he'd looked out of the window he'd have seen a police car pull up and a couple of officers emerge, but he didn't think to check. All he could think of was that his brothers needed him and he wasn't going to abandon them. No one else in his family was going to go through what he'd been through if there was even the slightest chance he could prevent it. He had to keep going. Even if he had to face the same long nightmare of recovery again, he knew he had no choice. He couldn't face life without his brothers.

* * *

Scott and John - both now bound hand and foot – sat uneasily at the back of the loading bay. John twisted and squirmed, trying to relieve his aching muscles. With his hands bound he hadn't been able to offer much help to Scott beyond allowing him to lean on him all the way back to the delivery bay. Between that and all the fetching and carrying he'd done for Carl and his friends, he was exhausted. He jumped as someone outside banged on the shutter door and rattled the lock, then looked up to see an agitated Mitch pointing the gun at the two of them.

"Keep quiet!" Mitch hissed.

"You won't get away," John pointed out calmly. "Why don't you just give yourselves up?"

"Shut up!" Mitch yelled, earning a swipe across the ear from Carl.

"Keep it down – do you want them to hear us?"

Mitch turned on Carl.

"They'll have the place surrounded by now. I told you – we have to let them know we've got hostages."

"Talking of hostages – Ryan's taking his time," Carl commented, glancing at his watch. "When he's here we'll decide what to do."

John and Scott exchanged concerned glances. Scott had managed a whispered account of Virgil's actions and both boys were worried about their younger brother. If he'd run into Ryan he'd be in real trouble. But if Ryan had caught him – or simply discovered that the three youngest boys had escaped, surely he'd have returned by now. What was going on?

* * *

As Virgil slowly crept along the corridor he was unaware of the patrol units which gradually began to surround the stadium. He vaguely registered the distant sound of a helicopter, but it didn't occur to him that it might be a sign that help was on its way. All he could think about was finding his brothers. The universe had narrowed to just this one corridor and who knew what he'd find at the end? He just wanted to get it over with and he picked up speed, heading quietly towards the delivery bay.

* * *

Jeff had spent only the briefest of moments with his mother before hastening off to the stadium to see for himself the efforts which were being made to help his other sons. He'd been directed to the delivery bay entrance and as he stepped out of his car he took in the picture in front of him. He'd expected frantic activity and the relative quiet of the scene infuriated him. The only activity seemed to be coming from a helicopter hovering overhead. Ignoring the guiding hand of the policeman who was now trying to move him towards a police van, he spotted the familiar figure of the Chief of Police and he headed towards him, intent on finding out just what was being done to save his boys.

"Frank?" he called as he approached. The man didn't respond, being more concerned with the conversation he was having over his radio, so Jeff strode more quickly towards him, ignoring the pleas of the policeman to leave the Chief to do his job.

Tapping Frank Linley on the shoulder, he was finally rewarded with the man's attention. Two big wheels in a relatively small city, civic functions had been their only meeting grounds until Virgil's kidnapping, when the Chief had provided officers to protect the rest of the family from the hordes of journalists who had besieged their house. He'd continued his support following Virgil's return home and over the subsequent months the two men had become friends.

"Just give me a minute, Jeff," Linley said, turning back to his conversation before grabbing a pen and pad and making frantic notes. Desperately trying to contain himself, Jeff forced himself to be patient, reminding himself that the man was doing a job, albeit a lot more slowly than he'd have liked. Finally, Linley ended his call, then called to the officers closest to him to gather round.

"Okay, the guys in the helicopter have scanned the building. There are seven people in there. Four are in the delivery bay behind us. Probably our guys and a hostage – anyone else would have had that door open by now and be out here with us. They don't seem to want to make a move, probably keeping an eye on us. I'm going to try to negotiate with them in a minute."

Jeff wanted to say something but forced himself to hold his tongue as he caught Linley's eye.

The Chief continued,

"One is in the lobby. We know from Gordon Tracy's statement that the security guard and Scott Tracy were there. Presumably it's one of them. Where the other one has gone is anyone's guess, but we know Virgil Tracy is free to move around in there and he could well have got his brother free. There's another one apparently upstairs and one more on the move heading towards the delivery bay. There's no way of knowing who's who. The manager's on her way and we'll have the doors open soon. Then we'll go after the two who are on their own. The others can be pinned down in the delivery bay. For now, everyone just stay alert."

He turned to Jeff and beckoned him a little way away from the others.

"How are you, Jeff?"

"I'm fine," Jeff said dismissively - as if he'd ever admit to the feelings of terror which possessed him as he heard his sons' situation outlined so clinically. "What's going on?"

"You heard – you know as much as I do. I would guess that our guys have got their hostages in the delivery bay, but I won't go charging in without knowing a bit more about what's going on. Your boys are the priority. I want them out safely."

Jeff felt relieved. The hatred he felt for his sons' captors was overwhelming, but he'd rather see them go free than risk any of his boys.

"You're going to talk to them?"

"Yes, just as soon as I know who we've got in there. I've got someone on the way with the keys to the main doors – one of the managers is coming in to give us some help with the layout and advise us on the best entry points. The trouble is that this is such a huge building. There are so many doors that it's going to be impossible to cover them all if they split up. I want these men cornered."

He looked at the billionaire with sympathy. "How do you think your boys will be holding up?"

Jeff sighed. "Scott's hurt. Gordon said he was knocked out. If he's awake he'll be more worried about his brothers than himself. John can probably handle this okay. He'll be psychoanalysing his captors. I just hope he doesn't try to be too clever and antagonise them. Virgil..."

Jeff didn't know what to say about Virgil's likely state of mind.

"He's a brave kid, Jeff. To stay in there after everything that happened to him last summer... Do you think he can handle it?"

"I don't know." The anguish in Jeff's voice was evident as his feelings came pouring out. "It took him so long to get over what happened to him. It was his last counselling session tonight. We were going to celebrate at the game. I don't know what this is going to do to him. I'm proud of him for staying there... but I'm terrified that he'll break down. I can't even imagine what he thought he was going to do. Will he put himself in danger to save his brothers? I don't know. I don't even know if I want him to. I just want them all out of there."

Frank was silent for a moment. "We've got paramedics standing by for Scott and Jim Hanson. We're not going to rush into anything that's likely to hurt your other boys." He watched as another car arrived and a woman got out and was pointed in his direction. "Looks like that's the manager. Now we can get moving. Come on, stick with me. And Jeff?"

"What?"

"Don't do anything to interfere. I know those are your boys in there, but I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Okay," Jeff said reluctantly. He knew he was going to find it next to impossible to let someone else bargain for his sons' lives. He couldn't promise to stay quiet if there was any way he could influence events. And he had one bargaining chip which Frank didn't – money. He was quite prepared to pay these men whatever they wanted if it meant saving his sons.

Several cars took groups of officers back around to the lobby and Jeff accepted the offer of a place in Frank's car, agreeing to stay there once things got moving. He watched tensely from his seat as the police prepared to enter the building. Once outside the main entrance it took only seconds for them to unlock the huge glass doors and enter the dark, seemingly deserted lobby. It was only a few moments more before the lights came on and a policewoman came to the door, yelling for the paramedics. Another officer came running over to Frank with the news that they'd found Jim. Jeff sat back in his seat and waited impatiently as word came that the officers were heading upstairs to find out who else had been left alone.

* * *

Ryan had finally soothed his burning eyes enough to consider opening them. He gazed around blurrily, thinking that if the boys had found a way out then perhaps he could too. When he saw the hole where the vent had been he knew it was far too small to allow him to get out, but he climbed up and stuck his head out anyway. When the door at the end of the corridor opened and the first policeman came through he knew it was all over. Dropping to the floor he waited wearily for his arrest, wondering how he could bring himself to admit that he'd been overpowered by a twelve year old boy.

* * *

Word came over Frank's radio that they'd got one of the men. He'd been locked in a store room, though he wasn't saying much about how he'd got there. Frank looked at Jeff with a smile.

"Well, it looks like one of your boys has been busy."

Jeff couldn't return the smile. There were still two men left and three of his boys missing.

"Okay," Frank said, taking up his radio. "We're moving in." He directed a group of officers towards the delivery bay to cut off escape that way. Then he took Jeff back to the delivery bay entrance where more officers were waiting.

"As soon as my men are in position I'm going to start negotiating with them," he said. "If it is one of your boys heading back there, hopefully my men can pick him up and get him out before he gets too close to the others."

* * *

Virgil had nearly reached the delivery bay. He no longer felt fear, just a sense of calm as he approached his destination. He still didn't know what he was going to do when he got there – all he was focused on was putting one foot in front of the other and getting to his brothers. Everything else had been blanked out. He came to a sharp turn in the corridor and paused. To his left was an office door, the glass window allowing a shaft of light to illuminate the corridor. Glancing through the window he saw that one side of the room was made up of windows looking into the delivery bay. There were lights on in the bay and he guessed he'd found his brothers. Pausing for a moment he decided that the office just might offer more of a way forward than the bay itself - maybe he could get a good look at what was going on inside. Pushing the door, he found it locked, and he began to sort through Ryan's keys to find one which fitted.

The police were making their way towards the delivery bay. They were moving quietly though, and Virgil didn't hear them – he was in his own world anyway and probably wouldn't have registered them even if they'd come charging along at top speed. Finally finding the right key, he quickly and quietly slipped into the office, pulling the door closed behind him.

Creeping towards the window which looked into the bay, Virgil quickly poked his head up just enough to get a quick glance in before ducking back down again. It had been enough. He'd seen John and Scott tied up at the back of the bay and Mitch and Carl standing at the door, apparently listening intently to something outside. No Gordon and Alan though, and his heart soared at this – they'd made it out. In fact, it looked as though the police were outside. He could let them take over. He debated whether to abandon his rescue attempt and just get himself out, but then decided he'd rather wait to see his brothers safely released. After all, there was no guarantee that Carl and Mitch were going to give themselves up. Virgil knew from his own experiences that men at risk of capture were at their most dangerous.

Looking around the office he wondered if there was anything which might be useful to him. A shelving unit held a number of tools and he pounced jubilantly on a box cutter, hoping he might be able to free his brothers. He risked looking out of the window again. Nothing had changed. Thinking for a moment, he decided it was worth a shot. Mitch and Carl still had their backs to his brothers and there was quite a distance between them. Quickly and quietly he crept back through the door.

Reaching the large double doors to the delivery bay he had a moment's doubt. Would the two men really be so distracted by whatever was going on outside that he'd be able to get in without being noticed? He decided he had no choice but to try. Slowly pushing the door handle, he held his breath and the lock clicked open. There was no response from inside. Pushing open the door a fraction he looked through to see Mitch and Carl with their backs to him, still standing across the bay beside the outer doors. Quickly pushing the door open just enough to get himself through, he slipped into the delivery bay, letting the door shut behind him. Out in the corridor, the first of the policemen rounded the corner and came to a halt, reporting back to Frank Linley that they were in position. Now all they could do was wait.

* * *

"My men are in place," Linley told Jeff. "They haven't found whoever was heading to the delivery bay. But if they're all in there at least they're cornered. We can start negotiating."

Jeff said nothing, just staring at the shutter doors. Just an inch of metal separated him from his sons, but it might as well have been miles. He tried to remember some of the coping techniques Virgil had told him about but the only one he could remember was to hum a tune and he'd never been musical. Instead he resorted to his preferred techniques – pacing and frowning.

* * *

John was the first to spot Virgil and he stared at his brother in utter disbelief, silently mouthing at him to get himself out of there. It didn't work, though and Virgil, with frequent nervy glances at Carl and Mitch, quickly made his way towards his brothers. Scott finally realised what was going on and cast him a furious - if slightly unfocused - glare which made Virgil flinch. He decided to free John first, reasoning that Scott was going to need both of them to help him get away safely. If they could get out of the bay and make a run for it then he could unlock a door and get them out. Then the police could move in and it would all be over. A voice told him that it couldn't possibly be that easy but he refused to listen.

Sliding behind John he quickly cut his bonds. John rounded angrily on his brother, but, mindful of his captors who thankfully were still engrossed with listening to whatever was going on outside, said nothing. His expressions and gestures made his feelings perfectly clear, though and Virgil was glad to turn his attention to Scott. He was working on the ropes which held his feet, reasoning that at least that way Scott would be able to make a run for it, when there was a sudden, loud banging at the door.

"This is the police," came the muffled voice of Frank Linley from outside. "Give yourselves up, we have you surrounded."

All three boys jumped and the knife slipped in Virgil's hand, almost slicing into Scott's ankle. But he kept going, even though he knew there was little time left. John was on his feet by now, flexing his arms and legs to get the circulation going again and he watched in horror as Mitch and Carl turned back to their captives. Although Virgil hadn't stopped working on the ropes, John realised that there was no time left to free Scott. He looked at his older brother, knowing immediately what Scott wanted him to do even before Scott uttered the words.

"Leave me! Get Virgil out of here!"

With no time for anything more than a nod of understanding, John grabbed a protesting Virgil and dragged him back towards the door as the two men started running towards them.

Mitch drew his gun, only to have it pushed down again by Carl.

"Are you crazy? You start shooting and they'll storm the place. We'll have no chance."

"John, what are you doing?" Virgil gasped, trying to twist out of John's grasp.

"No time." John had nearly got his brother to the door. "Come on."

"No! I'm not leaving him! Not again!" Virgil struggled to get back to Scott, trying to disengage John's hands from his arm, but the older boy kept hold, pulling him away. As he got the door open Virgil twisted round again, nearly causing John to fall.

"Come on!" John urged, hearing the footsteps of his captors echoing close behind. As he got the door open he saw the police waiting outside and felt a tremendous sense of relief. He stepped through the door, managing to get a couple of paces outside before he was pulled back sharply. Stumbling backwards and crashing to the ground, he lost his hold on Virgil, looking up to see that Mitch had got hold of his younger brother and was waving his gun in the direction of the police.

"Get away!" he yelled. "I'll shoot him!"

John had fallen on the corridor side of the door whilst Mitch was still inside the bay. He edged towards the police, one of whom was holding out a hand to him. Another held his gun sideways in a gesture of appeasement.

"Okay, we want the boys back safe. You just calm down, okay?"

Although Mitch was in plain sight there was no way to get a shot at him without risking hitting Virgil and the police backed away, shielding John just in case Mitch decided he wanted him back. But Mitch had enough to deal with as Virgil squirmed and kicked out at him. He dragged Virgil back, kicking the door closed behind him. It slammed shut, leaving John safely in the hands of the police, full of horror at the realisation that things had just got a lot more serious for Scott and Virgil. He ignored the policeman who was frantically asking him if he was okay and barely registered the woman who was reporting his escape via her radio. Relieved as he was to be safe, he realised that he'd rather be back inside helping his brothers. He understood Virgil's actions better now. As a policeman guided him back along the corridor, all the while questioning him about his experience, he began to imagine all the terrible things which might be happening back in the bay.


	10. Chapter 10

_As always, a huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed or put this story on alert. _

Chapter Ten

Scott had watched John and Virgil's escape attempt with an increasing feeling of desperation, cursing himself for not being able to help. He knew that if he hadn't been so weak Virgil would have freed him first and he thought he would probably have been able to get his brothers out of there. Even if he hadn't escaped himself he could have coped with being the only one left as long as he'd known his brothers were safe. Now, seeing Virgil being dragged violently backwards by Mitch, his hands clawing uselessly at the arm which gripped his throat so tightly, he was filled with panic, knowing that Mitch was likely to vent his fury on his brother.

As Mitch flung Virgil to the floor, aiming a kick at him for good measure, Scott tried to roll himself in front of his brother, almost tripping Mitch who kicked out at him this time. It was Carl who prevented things from getting out of hand, pulling Mitch back and yelling at him to pull himself together – they were going to need to stay calm if they were to get themselves out of there. _They're not the only ones_, thought Scott, staring anxiously at Virgil who was still huddled on the ground, trying to get his breath back. Scott couldn't see his face and he prayed his brother could keep hold of the strength which had brought him this far. He'd been surprised and impressed - not to mention infuriated - by Virgil's actions that night, but he knew that his brother could only take so much.

Carl was back at the exit, yelling something about hostages, but Scott wasn't interested in the negotiations at that moment.

"Virgil?" he called, not caring if the men heard him, deciding that they had more pressing concerns now than stopping the brothers from talking. "Virg? Are you okay?"

Finally Virgil turned to face him. Scott was relieved to see that although his brother was obviously terrified, he was managing to stay in control.

"I'm okay," Virgil whispered. He sat up slowly and shuffled closer to his brother, relieved that Scott seemed more like his usual self. "How about you?"

"Never mind me. I thought you were going to get yourself out of here."

"Couldn't leave you."

Scott sighed, "You should have. You should have left me the first time. Still, at least Johnny's safe now."

Virgil looked over to where Carl and Mitch were deep in discussion.

"Do you think they'll take us away with them?" he asked fearfully and Scott could only guess at the memories and emotions his brother was reliving. Ignoring his own concerns, he focused on reassuring his brother.

"I hope not. But even if they do we'll be okay. You know that, don't you? They won't hurt us."

Scott could see that Virgil didn't believe him.

"It's not like last time, Virg. No one knew where you were. We didn't even know what had happened to you until Dad got the ransom demand. This is completely different. You're not alone now – I'm here with you. And we're not going anywhere. The police are outside. Dad's probably there as well giving everyone orders. They'll get us out of here."

"That's what I was trying to do," Virgil pointed out quietly. "It didn't go so well."

"Virg, you did great!" As frustrated as he was at Virgil's failure to do as he had been told and get himself to safety, it really wasn't the right time to yell at his brother. "You got Gordon and Alan out and you got John untied so he could get away. You got me free too in the lobby, it was just bad luck that I got caught again." A thought struck him. "Hey, I didn't hurt you, did I? I think I pushed you down the stairs a bit harder than I meant to."

Virgil shook his head. He didn't see any point in telling Scott about the numerous bruises he'd picked up in his tumble down the stairs. Anyway, he could pretend they'd all come from the encounter with Ryan. As he quietly told his brother about Ryan he felt a surge of pride at Scott's admiring reaction. He didn't mention the gun though - he was trying not to think about it, wishing now that he'd brought it with him. The thought that his fear might have cost him the chance to get Scott out was almost more than he could bear.

"You sure you're okay?" Scott asked with some concern. He thought he'd cheered Virgil up a bit with his enthusiastic – and genuine – praise of his victory over Ryan, but he was worried by the haunted look in his brother's eyes. He'd hoped he'd never see that look again.

"Not too bad," Virgil told him, forcing a smile just to make Scott feel better.

Scott smiled back, trying to comfort his brother in turn. Both their smiles faded as Carl began shouting through the door and Mitch came over to them.

"Get up," he ordered Virgil.

Virgil shot a panicked look at Scott. He could cope – just – with what was happening as long as he was with his brother, but if they were separated... Scott saw the panic in his eyes and was pretty sure it was reflected in his own.

"Come on!" Mitch snapped, grabbing Virgil roughly and propelling him in the direction of the door. Carl stood by the door, ready to open it. He turned to look at Virgil who managed to meet his gaze though his expression was one of terror.

"Right, we need to show them what we're bargaining with. Keep quiet unless I tell you to speak. Got it?"

Virgil nodded dumbly. He doubted he'd be able to put a coherent sentence together anyway right now. Of course that thought triggered the memory of Luke and Dan forcing him to send a message to his father and he fought down yet another wave of panic. Sheer determination stopped him from breaking down. If his father was outside he needed to show him that he could be strong, that these men wouldn't break him as the Redmans had done. With a nervous glance back at Scott who smiled encouragingly, he turned back to the door which Carl had now opened just a fraction, ready to bargain for his freedom and the Tracy boys' lives.

Scott watched anxiously. He thought Carl seemed the more level-headed of his two captors, but he could tell he was getting desperate. He just hoped Mitch would stay calm. He knew he was dangerously hot-headed and he worried about his brother being held tightly by this man, whose hand shook as he pointed the gun at Virgil's head. He wished they'd taken him instead, but knew that the men would go for the smallest and presumably weakest of the two. He wondered what they'd think if they knew Virgil had managed to overpower Ryan.

* * *

Jeff and John's reunion had been brief but full of emotion. Neither of them was particularly demonstrative in normal circumstances, but these circumstances were as far from normal as you could get and it was a desperately relieved Jeff who started running towards his son the moment he saw him. A startled yet appreciative John accepted his father's tight embrace for a moment, before struggling free.

Frank Linley and a couple of officers had also come over and they allowed the pair a moment before moving in to hear John's story.

"Are you okay?" Jeff asked, ignoring the police and looking John up and down anxiously.

"I'm fine, Dad," he said and wondered why his voice was suddenly so shaky. "I'm sorry. I couldn't get Virgil out. I tried, but..."

It was unlike John to admit to any kind of weakness or failure and Jeff was touched by his son's uncertainty.

"It's okay, son," he said gently. "It's not your fault. It's those men who are to blame for all this, no one else."

"I know," John said, staring at the ground. "It's just that we were so close to getting out and then Mitch dragged him back. I couldn't hold on."

With admirable composure, John went on to tell them everything that had happened to him. Jeff was proud of his son, though he noted the slight waver in his voice when he spoke of Scott and Virgil and knew this was affecting him more than he was letting on. It was time to get him home, he decided, and his thoughts drifted back to his mother and two youngest sons who must be going out of their minds with worry.

John finished with his thoughts on his captors.

"I think they're just desperate to get away," he said. "But they're getting stressed. They've guessed Ryan's been caught and they know the police have them surrounded. The older one's not too bad, but Mitch Leonard is starting to lose it. He'll be the dangerous one."

Linley considered that piece of information.

"Okay, looks like it's time to get talking."

Whilst the police made plans, Jeff pressed John for more news of Scott and Virgil.

"Are you sure Scott's okay?" he asked. He felt so helpless.

"Well, he's making more sense now than he did when I first bumped into him. He's a bit shaky, but he'll be fine."

The fear eased just a little as Jeff considered that comment. Then he thought once more about his other son and the tension flared again.

"What about Virgil?"

"He seemed pretty calm when he tried to free us. Certainly better than I ever thought he'd be. And he seemed to be thinking pretty clearly. But now he's caught – I just don't know. He really panicked when they caught him the first time. I thought he'd gone back to how he was when he first came home. But he managed to pull himself together. I think having to look after Gordy and Allie kept him calm."

"And now he'll be looking after Scott," Jeff said. "And Scott will be looking after him." He looked at his son. "They'll be fine. This will all be over soon."

John nodded, but he couldn't meet his father's eyes. Both knew that this was a long way from over.

"What's happening now?" John asked.

"They're going to try to negotiate." Jeff looked over at Frank for a moment, desperate to know what he was planning, then turned his attention back to John. "I guess we'd better call Grandma. She must be going frantic waiting to hear what's going on. The boys will want to know you're safe, too."

Jeff handed John his phone so that he could call his grandmother, before reluctantly leaving him in the care of a police officer. As much as he wanted his son with him, he didn't want him going anywhere near his captors again. He walked back towards the delivery bay entrance where Linley was briefing his officers. He needed to speak to him, unhappy about putting his sons' safety in someone else's hands.

"Jeff," the Chief said, registering his grim expression and guessing exactly what he was thinking. "I know what I'm doing. Please, leave this to me."

Jeff looked at him. "Give them whatever they want. I'll cover the cost. I just want my boys back."

"I'll bear that in mind. But what we don't want is them getting out of here with a hostage. You can come with me in case there's a chance to talk to the boys. Just stay calm and stay quiet, okay?"

Jeff nodded in reluctant agreement. Then he tensed as a shout came from the officers nearest the bay doors and guns were drawn and held ready. The small side entrance was slowly opening.

* * *

Carl knew his chances of escape were slim. He also knew that Mitch wouldn't go down without a fight. He cursed his luck – this should have been so easy with Ryan on the inside to set everything up. He'd expected to be back at home by now, planning what to do with his share of the takings. Instead he was pinned down and in danger of having his head blown off or, at the very least, facing years in prison. As Mitch kept pointing out, they really had nothing to lose by trying to trade the boys for their freedom. They'd come too far to back out now. Carl wished they'd just given themselves up as soon as the police had arrived – he couldn't see any way out of this. But he had to try. If they could just get well away from the city they could lay low for a while and then start over somewhere a long way away.

He watched as Mitch positioned Virgil in front of him like a shield then pulled the door open. He tensed, half expecting the boy to be hit by a hail of bullets, but the police were evidently well-prepared and no one fired in panic. Moving to stand behind Mitch, he looked out at the scene in front of him. There were too many police cars to count, their flashing lights illuminating the night. Right in front of him stood the Chief of Police with a man he recognised as Jeff Tracy at his side.

Virgil was utterly terrified as the door swung open and he looked out on so many armed police. Then his heart leapt at the sight of his father. If he could have called out he would have, but Mitch had a tight hold around his neck again and it was all he could do to breathe.

Jeff wanted to run to Virgil and tear him from Mitch Leonard's grasp, but he steeled himself to stay quiet and let Linley do his job. Instead he met his son's eyes and smiled, hiding his true feelings, trying to convey the impression that everything was going to be alright. He must have been fairly convincing because the look of terror in Virgil's eyes slowly began to fade and he even managed a weak smile before a grimace of pain flashed over his face as Mitch's grip grew even tighter.

The sight of Virgil being treated so brutally nearly broke Jeff. He started forward and was restrained by the Chief.

"Stay where you are!" Linley whispered frantically, before taking a step forward himself, hands held up in a gesture of peace.

The men's demands for safe passage, an unmarked car and the release of Ryan didn't come as any surprise to Frank Linley. He made it clear that Ryan would not be released but promised to consider their remaining demands. In reality, though, he had no intention of allowing them to leave. He couldn't risk losing them and his experience told him that however much danger Scott and Virgil were in right now, this was nothing to what could happen once the men took them away. He took in the agitation of the younger man who didn't seem to realise how much he was hurting the young boy he held hostage. The other man seemed calmer, though there was a hard look in his eyes which suggested he'd decided he had nothing to lose.

Linley, Carl and Mitch continued to discuss Ryan. Virgil soon lost track of their arguments. He was terrified that Linley would tell his captors exactly what had happened to Ryan and he dreaded to think what Mitch's reaction would be. His head dropped and he stared miserably at the ground as the discussions went on and on.

Jeff hadn't taken his eyes off Virgil and he could see that he was worn out. Worried that this was going to be too much for him, he couldn't restrain himself any longer.

"Are you okay, Virgil?" he asked gently. "How's Scott?"

"Keep quiet!" Mitch hissed, but Carl quietly overruled him.

"Let him speak – we need to look reasonable, don't we?"

"Dad!" Virgil's voice was faint but steady. "I'm alright. Scott's okay too. You need to get him out of here, though."

"We're going to get _both_ of you out," Jeff said, hoping his voice didn't betray his fears. Virgil's miserable expression didn't change though and he didn't meet his father's eyes as he nodded before Mitch tightened his grip around his throat once more.

"Alright," Linley said. "Here's the deal. Forget your friend. Think about yourselves. You release the boys, I give you a car and safe passage out of here."

"Yeah, and have us picked up two minutes later," Mitch laughed. "Not happening. We keep the kids until we're safely away."

"No." They continued to debate the issue until Carl moved to break the stalemate.

"One of them," he offered. "That's all I'm giving you."

Linley was about to reply when Jeff stepped forward, ignoring the Chief's exasperated curse. He'd listened to the negotiations and realised that there was no chance of getting both of his boys back. Logic told him that it would be the youngest who'd be taken and he couldn't let Virgil go through that again. The increasingly desperate look in his son's eyes as the arguments had dragged on told him that Virgil was slowly losing hope.

"How about you release both my boys and take me instead?"

Mitch and Carl exchanged surprised glances. Virgil snapped out of the daze he'd drifted into and stared at his father in shock. Had his father really just offered to take his place? A wave of immense relief and gratitude swept over him at the thought of freedom. It lasted all of a couple of seconds as he realised what it would mean if things went wrong and he looked over at his father and shook his head dumbly, trying to stop him from doing this, yet understanding completely why he wanted to. The risks were too great though – his father had three sons who were free and who needed him. What was the point of all five being free if they lost him for good? Losing his mother had been bad enough. He couldn't begin to imagine what life would be like if he lost his father, but the panic he felt just at the thought was bad enough. Looking around at the police who stood listening, guns held in readiness at their sides, he half wished they would start shooting – anything to put an end to this nightmare. He just wanted to be free and back with his family – _all _of them.

"Dad, no..."

"It's okay, Virgil. It'll be fine, you'll see."

"Jeff..." came the warning growl from behind. "Don't do this."

"Listen," Jeff said, putting his hands up and moving a step closer to the delivery bay door. "You set my boys free. I'll drive the car for you and we'll go anywhere you want. If you want a plane to take you somewhere, just say the word. I don't care about you; I just want my boys to be safe." Not true, of course, he wanted them captured, hurt, maybe even dead ... but he wasn't going to tell them that.

Carl looked at Mitch for a moment.

"Close the door," he said. "We need to talk."

Linley watched as Mitch dragged Virgil back inside and the door was slammed shut. Then he turned the force of his fury onto Jeff.

"What the hell was all that about? '_I'll give you a plane..._' Are you mad?"

"They're my sons, it's my choice," Jeff snapped. "You're not going to let them go, are you? What's going to happen to Virgil and Scott if they decide to fight it out?"

"It won't come to that."

"Are you sure?" Jeff looked him squarely in the eye. "You saw Virgil - he's not going to be able to take much more of this. If they decide to take him away with them, I dread to think what it will do to him. And there was no sign of Scott. What if he's hurt more seriously than John and Virgil thought? We've wasted enough time. If I go with them then you can do what you like to catch them – don't worry about my safety. But I want my boys out of there now."

"And what do you think they'll do to you? You can't trust them, Jeff."

Jeff was about to reply when the door opened again.

"Mr Tracy!" It was Carl. "You're on. We'll take your car – I don't trust a police car. You've got two minutes to get it up here. As soon as you're here your sons can go free."

Jeff looked at Linley who shook his head in frustration. "It's your call, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Okay," Jeff called. "I'm on my way." He turned and ran for his car.

* * *

Inside the delivery bay Scott stared across at Virgil. He hadn't heard everything, but he could tell from Virgil's shattered look that things hadn't gone well. Mitch had released his brother now and he rubbed his bruised throat reflexively. Scott wished once more that he was free and able to hurt these men as they'd hurt him and his brother – all his brothers. He had a terrible feeling that they were going to take Virgil away with them and he started to drag himself towards his brother, all the while wondering what on earth he could say to help him. Mitch and Carl started to retrieve bags from the van, discussing their next moves as they did so. They didn't object as Virgil made his way towards Scott.

Grateful for these few moments with his brother, Scott demanded to know exactly what was going on. Virgil told him everything, his fear for his father causing him to trip over his words. Scott's reaction was much the same as his brother's when he realised that although Virgil was going to be okay, his father would now be the one in danger. He looked at Virgil, still trying so hard to keep himself together, and hoped they'd be freed quickly so he could hug his brother and give him the comfort he so obviously needed. Though who would comfort him was anyone's guess. It had been a long time since Scott had been a little boy who needed his daddy, but at that moment, that was exactly what he was. Like Virgil, he couldn't begin to imagine a life without his father.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Dad's going to be fine." He just wished he believed it.

Virgil didn't reply. He was exhausted. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going. His ordeal was so close to being over, but if it meant losing his father... Nothing he had endured in his life would be as bad as that, not tonight's events, not even his kidnapping. He knew he'd never be able to cope.

Finally the two men were ready. Mitch took the bags over to the door whilst Carl came over to the boys.

"Come on," he said to Virgil, pulling him to his feet and shoving him towards the doors. With a last frantic backward glance at Scott, Virgil once again became a shield for his captors.

Carl opened the door a fraction then looked back at Mitch.

"Ready? He's here." Keeping Virgil between himself and the police, he pushed open the door, revealing Jeff standing there next to his car.

"Right," Carl yelled to the police. "Everyone move back. I want you all well away from here."

"Do it!" Jeff ordered, refusing to bow to Linley's final look of appeal.

The police began piling into their cars and pulling away. When the last of the cars had left and only Jeff was left, Carl stepped out to the car, pulling Virgil with him.

"Let him go," Jeff said.

"In a minute," Carl said. He called back to Mitch. "You got the bags?"

Mitch came out carrying two holdalls. "Right here."

They looked at Jeff's Porsche. It wasn't the biggest of cars – Jeff thought that he should have brought the family car, but then he'd never expected to be acting as chauffeur that night. As Mitch reached in to open the tiny trunk Virgil jerked violently away from Carl, the little colour left in his face suddenly draining away. Jeff saw his reaction and moved instinctively towards his son, managing only a couple of steps before he was waved back by Carl who tightened his hold on the shaking boy. Jeff knew Virgil was remembering how he'd been locked in the trunk of Lena Redman's car, fighting a losing battle against the stifling heat and lack of oxygen.

"It's alright – it's not for you," he said quickly. "Although I think those bags will be a tight fit."

Virgil looked at him, his eyes still full of fear. Then the logic of his father's words sank in and he drew in a deep breath.

"It's okay, son. It's nearly over," Jeff said gently. "You've done well, Virgil, I'm proud of you. You take care of Scott for me, okay? I'll see you soon."

"Dad..." The word came out as a sob and nearly broke Jeff's heart.

"Virgil, it's alright. I have to do this. You understand, don't you? When you went back for your brothers, it was just the same as this. This is my choice, okay? I just need to know you and Scott will be safe."

Virgil could only manage a nod, unable to put any of his feelings into words. Jeff wished he could do something more to comfort him in the little time they had left together.

"Right," Mitch said, having managed to stow one of the bags away but still clutching the other. "Let's get moving."

Jeff moved to the driver's side and hesitated, waiting for Carl to let go of Virgil. Instead, he pushed the startled boy towards the car.

"What's going on?" Jeff asked, suddenly full of alarm. "You said he'd be released."

"He will be," Carl said, helping Mitch push Virgil and the bag inside before moving over to frisk Jeff for weapons or wires. "Just as soon as we're safely out of the city. No offence, Mr Tracy, but I don't trust you. Whatever scheme you've cooked up with Chief Linley, it's not going to happen. We need to make sure you're really going to help us. Virgil's going to be our insurance. Now get moving."

Furious at the men's deception and knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, Jeff slid into the driver's seat. Looking up into the mirror he caught Virgil's frozen, hopeless gaze and he cursed himself for his stupidity in not insisting the boys were released before the police left. Linley had been right – he shouldn't have trusted these men. Now both he and Virgil were in real trouble, and from the look of his middle son, he'd had just about as much as he could stand.

"I'm sorry, son," he whispered, as he started the engine.


	11. Chapter 11

_I'm really thrilled with the response to the last chapter. To those of you who didn't expect things to turn out as they did - neither did I! The whole ending had to be rewritten! Hope it works._

Chapter Eleven

Safely stationed in a police car, John was on the phone to Grandma, wishing he could think of something to say to comfort her as she cried first with relief at his release, then with fear as she thought about Virgil and Scott. All he could do was tell her that everything was going to be okay and hope that he sounded convincing, because he wasn't at all sure that was going to be the case. _Why can't I look on the bright side for once?_ he wondered. Scott had pulled him up on his pessimism last summer and he'd been more than happy to be proved wrong. He wasn't often wrong, though, he thought grimly, then tried to put even more false optimism into his voice as he was passed over to an unusually tense and anxious Gordon. At least Alan was happy. He was apparently fast asleep, "still cuddling that stupid bear" according to his brother. The bitterness in Gordon's tone surprised John and he began to wonder how the night's events would affect his brothers. As he ended the call with the promise that he'd be home soon along with their father, Scott and Virgil, a shout went up and the police cars began to pull away. John looked up in surprise.

"What's going on?" he asked the policewoman who'd been charged with keeping him safe and out of trouble. He'd got the impression that Linley had been afraid that he'd follow Virgil's example and try to get back inside to help his brothers. He wouldn't be doing anything that reckless, though, at least not now that Linley seemed to have everything under control and his father was there to keep an eye on things. Maybe if the police hadn't arrived, he'd have considered it, but one narrow escape was enough and the prospect of being captured again held no appeal. How Virgil had managed to find the nerve to go back for his brothers after everything that had happened to him, he didn't know. The policewoman was taking a call on her radio and motioned to him to keep quiet. When she finally looked nervously up at him, obviously considering how best to phrase her reply, he knew the news was bad.

"It's your father," she said slowly. "He's trading places with your brothers."

John considered this for a moment and, once he'd got over the initial shock, decided he wasn't particularly surprised. In fact, he thought, it was probably an indication of just how shaken up he was that he hadn't anticipated such a move on his father's part. After all, Jeff Tracy had a pretty heroic past in the Air Force and with NASA and though John knew his father still commanded admiration and respect in those he met, he was aware that now it was usually because of his successful business and vast wealth rather than his former daring exploits. But then, he thought, you didn't become a billionaire or an astronaut without possessing a fair degree of courage and determination, not to mention ruthlessness. John supposed he'd just grown used to his father being tied to his desk. He wondered if Mitch and Carl had really thought things through before agreeing to his father's suggestion.

An agitated Frank Linley came over to him.

"You heard?" he asked.

John nodded, "Dad would do anything to get Scott and Virg out of there. I should have seen it coming."

"He's crazy," the Chief said bitterly. "Risking his own life instead of waiting for us to sort it out. Brave, but a complete fool. Just like your brother."

"Well, that's Dad for you. Where do you think Virgil gets it from?" John smiled despite his concern. Virgil would have loved to hear himself compared to his father like that. He knew his brother had felt like a disappointment to his family for much of this past year, despite their continued reassurance that his reaction to his kidnapping was perfectly understandable. After tonight he'd never be able to feel that way again, that was for sure, and John looked forward to being able to tell him this to his face. It should only be a few more minutes, he thought, eager to be reunited with his brothers though aware that the relief of seeing them would be offset by the worry of knowing that their father was now the one in danger. But at least they could support each other in the wait for news.

John waited impatiently alongside Frank Linley. Then Jeff's Porsche rounded the corner. The tinted windows prevented the onlookers from seeing inside and there was no reaction from anyone as Jeff drove past. They watched as the car turned out onto the road and picked up speed as it disappeared into the night.

As a couple of police cars and an ambulance headed back to the delivery bay, John turned to Linley, wondering why the rest of the cars hadn't shot off in pursuit of his father.

"We had time to put a tracker in the car," the Chief told him. "Standard procedure to have all the equipment on site in a hostage negotiation, just in case. The helicopter will keep track of him from a distance until he's out of the city and in a place where we can make a move safely."

"Okay," John said slowly, realising that there was nothing to do now but wait. "Can we go and find my brothers now?" He couldn't do anything to help his father, but he needed to know that Scott and Virgil were alright.

"Come on," Linley said, leading him back towards the delivery bay entrance. As they drew near, Linley halted to take a call on his radio. John saw Scott being helped towards the ambulance and set off at a run, desperate to check on his brother. He registered Scott's agitated movements as he pushed the paramedic away, putting it down to worry about his father and a typical refusal to admit to any weakness. But as John came up to him, Scott looked up at him with an expression of utter wretchedness and John knew something had gone very wrong.

"What's going on?" he asked apprehensively, suddenly realising that something – _someone_ - was missing. He looked frantically around, but there was no sign of Virgil and he knew what Scott was going to say even before his brother could get the words out.

"They took Virgil." An exhausted Scott dropped his head into his hands in despair and this time didn't have the energy to protest as the paramedic moved in for another shot at assessing him.

Behind them, Linley spat out a curse. "I told him not to trust them!"

"What are you going to do?" John asked.

"There's nothing I _can_ do," the Chief told him bluntly. "The whole point of your father going in there was to get all of you boys out. He was willing to risk his own safety and let us try to take those men. But now, with your brother still involved... we can't do anything. The helicopter will track them, but if anything happens we won't be there in time to help."

He strode angrily away, leaving Scott and John to consider the implications of his words and the likely fate of their father and brother.

* * *

As the car had driven past John, Virgil had had to fight the urge to call out to his brother. He knew there was no point. John wouldn't be able to hear or see him. It was hopeless. This was what he had dreaded right from the start. But at least he wasn't alone this time – although he would never have wished this experience on anyone else. Having his father there was a comfort and he trusted him to get them both out of this, convinced his father must have some sort of plan. Virgil just hoped he wouldn't let him down by panicking - he'd held it together so far, but he wasn't sure he could do so much longer. He kept telling himself that he'd survived last time and eventually healed. But whether his luck would hold a second time... He gazed out of the window, trying not to think about all the terrible things which might lie ahead.

Jeff drove along, following Carl's directions. As he expected, they headed out of the city. They passed Charlie's Bar and Jeff was relieved to see that it was dark and deserted. Gordon and Alan must be back home with his mother by now. The knowledge that four of his boys were safe comforted him, though he wished he could have made it five. He was still furious at himself for allowing the men to trick him and he wondered if Virgil would blame him for getting him into this mess. If anything happened to his son, or if he regressed back to the way he'd been after his experiences last summer, he'd never forgive himself.

Mitch and Carl kept looking back to see if they were being followed and Jeff was thankful that they seemed to think there would have been no time to set up a tracking device on the car. He'd been surprised and relieved when Linley had produced one and quickly placed it under the steering column. He'd expected the helicopter to keep tabs on the car and for the police to move in once it was safe to do so. He'd had no intention of throwing his life away, but he'd been prepared for the likelihood of a shootout once they were safely away from the city, accepting the risk to himself as the price of his boys' freedom. But now, with Virgil still in danger, he didn't know what was going to happen. He had to trust Linley to put his son's safety above all other considerations, even if it meant losing the two men. He cast an anxious glance up to the mirror to see how Virgil was getting on.

There wasn't much space in the back of the Porsche – the back seat was really only good for storing Jeff's briefcase. Virgil was twisted up against the window, trying to keep as much space as possible between himself and Mitch as he pondered the night's events. He still felt responsible for everything that had happened and he wondered if his father blamed him too. He wanted to talk to him, to apologise, but he was scared of antagonising his captors, so he continued to gaze out of the window, wondering what he would do if this all went wrong. What if his father didn't make it out alive? Would the rest of his family ever forgive him? What if he didn't make it himself? The dark thoughts rolled around his head and, despite everything he had learned from Antonia, he couldn't stop them. He'd never felt so exhausted and he just didn't have the energy to fight the misery which threatened to overwhelm him.

Virgil didn't see his father watching him as he stared vacantly out of the window. Jeff could see how tense he was, guessing pretty accurately what was going through his son's mind. He was amazed at how well Virgil was dealing with all of this, but he knew there had to be a limit to his son's endurance. He desperately wanted to say something to reassure him, but, like Virgil, he didn't dare utter a word. Mitch was obviously on edge, the bag of money clutched tightly in one hand whilst the other tapped the gun nervously on top.

"Okay, take a left here."

Carl's instruction startled Jeff and he was only just in time to swing the car around. Virgil was flung against Mitch, who swore and pushed him roughly away. Virgil shrank back against the window once more and Jeff frowned, registering just how pale and tired he was looking.

Without thinking, Jeff reached down to the side pocket in the door. Carl immediately grabbed his shoulder and jabbed the gun hard into his side, causing Virgil to let out a gasp of terror as his father's hand slipped from the steering wheel and the car swerved across the road.

"It's okay, I wasn't going to try anything," Jeff said quickly, regaining control of the car and raising his hand. He was holding a half-empty bottle of water. "For Virgil."

Carl considered this for a moment, then put the gun down and passed the water back to Virgil who took it with shaking hands, sipping it gratefully. This time he met his father's eyes as Jeff looked back through the mirror and he managed a weak smile, causing Jeff's spirits to lift for a moment. He returned the smile and nodded approvingly.

As time went on and the miles rolled by, an unexpected tranquillity settled over the occupants of the car. Virgil found himself lulled into calmness by the gentle throb of the engine and the sheer monotony of the journey. He knew that there was still the prospect of a police ambush or a sudden burst of violent rage from his kidnappers, but as time went on, the likelihood of either happening seemed to lessen. For the first time since his capture he found himself in a situation where there was absolutely nothing he could do to help himself or anyone in his family. All he could do was sit back and wait for something to happen. It was all out of his hands now and in a strange way he found that a relief as he settled into a numb acceptance of his fate, whatever it might be. Finally, exhaustion overtook him and, despite his uncomfortably cramped position, he drifted off into sleep.

Despite his own increasing fatigue, Jeff kept driving, making frequent checks on Virgil who now appeared to be dozing. Jeff was glad – he could see how exhausted his son had been. Mitch looked on the verge of sleep too – his eyes would close and his head drop before he jerked himself back to wakefulness for a moment before the process would start again. Carl was still alert, however, watching the road ahead with just an occasional sideways glance at Jeff.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out," he remarked suddenly.

"Really?" Jeff tried to keep the sarcasm out of his tone but didn't quite manage it.

Carl looked at him. "I don't want to hurt either of you. As soon as we're past the next town I'll let the kid go."

Jeff didn't believe him. "You promised you'd release him once before."

"No choice." Carl pointed out. "What else could I do?"

"You didn't have to take my boys hostage in the first place," Jeff said angrily. "Gordon and Alan – they're just children. Virgil too."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Carl said, gazing out at the dark night. "For all of us."

Before he could reply, Jeff's attention was caught by a light which suddenly flashed on the dashboard.

"I'm running low on fuel," he said.

Carl frowned and considered this for a moment.

"Well, we can't stop to fill up – this car would attract too much attention. We don't want to leave a trail for the police to follow." He turned round and prodded the now-sleeping Mitch.

"We have to change cars."

The tiny spark of hope he'd been hanging onto disappeared at this and Jeff's heart sank. As long as they were being tracked they had a chance. But a change of cars? They'd have no hope of rescue.

"There's a town up ahead," Carl said. "We'll pick up a new car there. "

It only took a few more minutes for them to reach the town and find a deserted parking lot. Jeff pulled up behind the SUV which Carl indicated and Mitch got out. It only took him a moment to get the car open and hotwired – he'd apparently had plenty of practice.

"Come on," Carl ordered, preparing to leave the Porsche. Jeff reached into the back to shake Virgil awake then suddenly drew his hand back and looked at the younger man.

"You said you'd let him go."

"When we're away from here."

"He's asleep, why not leave him? He won't know what car we've taken and he can get himself some help."

Jeff hated the thought of abandoning his son like this, imagining his panic when he woke up to find himself alone. But at least he'd be free. Linley would track the car and find him and he'd be back at home with his brothers in a few hours.

Carl considered this for a moment, turning to look at the sleeping boy.

"Okay," he said finally. "Come on."

Quietly, Jeff opened his door and stepped out. Only to come face to face with Mitch.

"What the hell's taking you so long?" he demanded. Jeff stifled a groan as his loud voice startled Virgil into wakefulness.

"What's happening?" he asked in confusion, wondering why the car had stopped.

"Come on," Mitch said, reaching in and dragging him out. Jeff stared at them in disbelief. He'd come so close to ending Virgil's ordeal. He caught Carl's eye as they headed over to the SUV and thought the man looked sorry. Carl didn't say anything though, he just shrugged as he ushered Jeff across to their new car.

Settling himself in the driver's seat, Jeff had never felt so hopeless. They were in a different car, there was no way of tracking them and every effort he'd made to save his son had failed. There could be no relying on Frank Linley for help now. It was all down to him. But he had no idea what he could do.

Virgil was relieved to have a bit more space. At least he wasn't crushed uncomfortably up against a window anymore and there was more distance between himself and Mitch. Plus he felt a lot better now that he'd managed to get some sleep, especially since he hadn't been troubled by nightmares as he'd half expected. He knew that things weren't anywhere near over yet – he still had to make a real effort to keep himself from dwelling on thoughts of what might happen to his father and to himself – but for the time being at least he was calm and in control. He considered everything that had happened that night and felt an unexpected sense of pride – despite everything he'd been through he hadn't broken down. He looked out of the window with a new alertness, trusting his father to have a plan and hoping that he wouldn't let him down when everything kicked off.

After another fifteen minutes they were well clear of the town and out in the middle of nowhere. It was pitch black, with only the car's headlights and the moon to provide any light.

"Stop here," Carl said suddenly as they drove through a patch of woodland. Jeff did so, stalling the engine in his surprise. He turned to face his captors nervously.

"Right," Carl said, turning to face Virgil. "You can get out."

"What?" Mitch asked in surprise, putting a hand on the startled boy's shoulder to keep him in place. "You're letting him go?"

"By the time anyone finds him we'll be long gone. And Mr Tracy here makes a perfectly good hostage." Carl held Mitch's gaze for a long moment.

Finally Mitch shrugged. "Your call." He released his hold on Virgil but the boy didn't move, he just stared out through the window to the empty darkness beyond before shooting an apprehensive look at his father. Jeff, as much as he wanted his son out of this situation, was feeling equally ill at ease at the thought of Virgil alone in this isolated place.

"Dad?"

Jeff looked across at Carl.

"Here?" he asked uneasily. "There's nothing for miles around."

"Exactly. By the time he gets to a phone or finds someone to help we'll be well on our way. And by then we'll have switched cars again."

Jeff sighed at the logic of this, then forced a confident look onto his face as he turned back to Virgil.

"It's okay, son. Do as they say. And don't worry about me. Just get yourself home safely and I'll see you soon."

He tried to ignore the cynical laugh which came from Mitch's direction, but Virgil couldn't.

"No! They won't let you go. I'm staying here with you!"

The words nearly broke Jeff's heart.

"Virgil, I'll be okay, but I need you out of all this. Just get yourself safely back home to Grandma and your brothers. Can you do that for me?"

Understanding his father's need to get him out of danger, Virgil nodded hesitantly. He wanted to be free, but he wanted to be with his father too. He couldn't believe he was going to have to watch his father drive away to who knew where, not knowing if he'd ever see him again. Despite his determination to stay in control and do whatever his father needed, he felt himself wavering and he forced himself to stay strong for his father's sake.

Jeff kept eye contact with him the whole time, trying to convey all the things he didn't have time to say. He wished he could hug his son one last time, but Mitch was getting impatient and the last thing he wanted was to antagonise the man and make him change his mind about releasing Virgil.

"Get a move on, then," Mitch said sharply. "We haven't got all night." Reaching across to the door he opened it and pushed Virgil out before getting out himself to restart the stalled engine.

With a last desperate look at his father Virgil turned and stumbled back along the road, not knowing how long it would take him to reach the last town they'd driven through and not really caring. He'd held it together as long as his father was with him, but now the tears started to fall as the car started up and he prepared to see his father disappear into the night. Then he froze as the engine died with a strangled whine. There was another effort to get it started... and another... but the engine refused to catch.

Virgil turned back to face the car just as Mitch started to shout,

"What the hell have you done?"

His father's quiet voice muttered something he couldn't catch. But he got the next words as Jeff suddenly yelled,

"Virgil! Get away from here, now!"

Stunned, he took a step backwards. Then, as Mitch turned to face him, a look of wild fury on his face, he turned and ran. Whether the car had a problem, or whether his father had done something to it, he didn't know. What he did know was that his father had given him an order and he had to obey. He couldn't let him sacrifice himself for nothing. Stumbling and tripping over unseen obstacles in the darkness, he pelted at full speed into the woods, the sound of Mitch's heavy footsteps behind him spurring him onwards.

Back in the car, Jeff had been as surprised as anyone else when the engine died. He'd noticed that the headlights had been a little dim, but he'd just put it down to it being an old car, not one of the luxurious limousines or high performance sports cars he'd grown accustomed to over the years. As the implications slowly sank in and he waited to see if Mitch could start the engine again – genuinely hoping he'd be able to do it, because he didn't want Virgil anywhere around if there was going to be trouble – he wondered how his captors would react to being stranded. It wasn't a surprise when Mitch took off after Virgil and he instinctively reached for the door handle in order to follow, only for Carl to command him to stop. For a moment his concern for Virgil almost led him to make a run for it, before he reluctantly decided he wouldn't be much help to his son with a bullet in him. He turned to face Carl, expecting him to be just as angry as Mitch.

Carl said nothing, however, he just gazed out into the darkness. He looked down at the gun in his lap. Then he looked at Jeff.

"You know what?" he asked, unbuckling his seat belt and putting a hand to the door handle. "This was never going to work. Crazy to think it ever would. Get out."

Continually glancing back in the direction Virgil and Mitch had headed, desperate to get after them but all too aware of the gun in the other man's hand, Jeff got out and, as instructed, moved back to the trunk, lifting out the bags of money and handing them to Carl who hooked them over his shoulder. He knew this was his last chance to go for broke and tackle the man, and began to size up his chances. But before he could do anything, Carl stepped aside and gestured in the direction the other two had gone.

"Go on. Go after your son. With a bit of luck – not that I've had much tonight - I can get myself away. But you'll be more trouble than you're worth. If I try to take you with me you're going to get a chance to get away or take me down. I'll move faster by myself anyway."

Jeff couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd expected Carl to force him to go with him and had already begun considering ways of overpowering him or escaping. He stared at the man for a moment, totally thrown by the turn events had taken.

Carl registered his confusion.

"You'd better get moving. The way Mitch is right now I wouldn't give much for Virgil's chances if he catches him. "

Jeff knew he was right. Without a word to Carl he turned, ready to go after Virgil. But before he could move, the quiet of the night was suddenly shattered by the sharp crack of a gunshot. Both men jumped then Jeff shook himself into action. A dreadful, cold feeling came over him as he pictured Virgil hurt, maybe even dying... He began to run in the direction from which the shot had come, not caring that he was unarmed, only concerned for his son.

* * *

Virgil had no idea where he was going. The moonlight gave him just enough illumination so that he didn't crash into trees or fall into ditches, but the woodland was getting thicker and his progress was becoming slower. He ran blindly onwards, knowing that if Mitch caught him he'd probably kill him.

Mitch was consumed with fury. Convinced that Tracy had deliberately sabotaged the engine, he could think of only one way of repaying the man for his actions – recapturing then hurting his son. Beginning to lose sight of the boy, who was taking advantage of his smaller size to weave his way into the thickest part of the wood where it would be more difficult to follow, he raised his gun and fired.

Virgil felt the bullet whizz past him and slam into a nearby tree. His instinctive reaction was to hurl himself into the thickest part of the undergrowth in panic. He dropped to his hands and knees in order to make himself a smaller target, so desperate to put more distance and cover between himself and his pursuer that he didn't even notice the sharp twigs and brambles which ripped his clothes and tore at his exposed hands and face. Mitch wasn't discouraged, though his pace slowed considerably. He kept up his pursuit, the crashing and cursing suggesting that he was so enraged that he was charging through any obstacles, not trying to move around them. He fired a second time, missing by a greater margin this time.

Virgil kept going. There was nothing else he could do. The brambles became less dense and he got back onto his feet, deciding that speed was more important than cover now that he'd put a bit more distance between himself and Mitch. He was getting tired though and he wondered how much longer the chase would continue. Mitch looked pretty fit and Virgil knew his anger would spur him on. Suddenly, to his surprise, he emerged into a clearing. Realising that he was now totally exposed to the trigger-happy Mitch, who he could hear crashing along behind him, he looked around frantically for some means of escape. There was only one path which he could see and that led back in the direction of the car. It would take him right back to his father, but he'd promised his dad he'd get away. Then there was the worry that Mitch might take his anger out on his father instead. He only had seconds to decide what to do, aware that Mitch was drawing ever closer. He braced himself for another charge through the undergrowth, conscious for the first time of the stinging of all the scratches he'd already received. Then a thought struck him as a tall tree to his left caught his eye. He jumped up to grab a branch, pulling himself up and into its leafy depths just as Mitch charged into the clearing.

Mitch came to a halt, panting furiously. He looked around for a moment, trying to guess which way Virgil had headed, uncertain as to whether or not he'd have taken the obvious choice of the path. He listened carefully, unable to hear anything which would give him a clue as to Virgil's whereabouts. Surely if he'd taken the path he'd be able to hear the sound of running footsteps? Then again, if he'd headed for the undergrowth he'd be easily heard. Maybe he'd stopped and hidden, Mitch thought, in which case there was only one thing he could do. He stayed still, listening for any hint of Virgil's position. If he'd known that all he had to do was look up...

Virgil crouched on a branch, clinging to the trunk of the tree, so still and quiet that he was barely breathing. Mitch was standing directly beneath him, just a few feet separating them. He prayed that Mitch wouldn't look up or start firing randomly – he was so close that he wouldn't stand a chance. He willed Mitch to get moving so that he could jump down and head off in the opposite direction. But after a few minutes, Mitch, apparently resigned to the loss of his captive, just sank to the floor, resting wearily against the tree, still trying to catch his breath.

For a few minutes nothing happened. Then the sound of running footsteps made both of them jump. Gun at the ready, Mitch leapt to his feet trying to work out just who was heading his way. It couldn't be the boy – the heaviness of the steps indicated a grown man. Was it Carl? But if so, what had he done to their hostage? And why was he running so frantically? Could it be Tracy? But then he must have overpowered Carl, in which case he might have his gun. Not knowing what else to do, Mitch positioned himself behind the tree in which Virgil hid, silently waiting for the runner to step out into the open where he would be visible – and vulnerable.

A distraught Virgil just assumed the runner was Carl. He'd obviously got rid of his father in some way and was coming to help Mitch capture him. What other possibility was there? After all, everything else had gone wrong that night. He didn't recall hearing any gunshots other than those fired by Mitch, but then he'd been intent on running for his own life. He watched Mitch as he moved to the other side of the tree. This time he didn't care if he looked up. He didn't care if Mitch caught him or what he'd do to him if he did. Only the promise he'd made to his father to get himself to safety stopped him from just giving himself up. He'd thought he'd hit the depths of despair long ago, now he realised he'd only broken the surface. If his father was dead he didn't think he could go on. He clung tighter to the tree trunk, his whole body shaking.

Jeff arrived at the clearing and just had the presence of mind to stop himself from charging out into the open. He looked around, listening intently for any hint as to the location of Virgil and Mitch. All seemed quiet – too quiet – but he had to get to Virgil and there was no time to stand around. One thing he was in complete agreement with Carl about was that an angry Mitch would want to take his feelings out on Virgil and with no car and now no cash, he'd have nothing to lose. Jeff slowly began to edge his way into the clearing.

But even that first, small, hesitant step was enough to get Mitch's attention.

The moment of jubilation at seeing his father free and in one piece was brief. Virgil watched in absolute horror as Mitch took aim at his father. He had to warn him.

"Dad!" he yelled, just as Mitch began to pull the trigger.

Both men were startled. Mitch's arm jerked and Jeff dived for cover as the bullet missed him by inches. Before Mitch could fire again, Virgil threw himself out of the tree, landing heavily on the man and knocking him off balance. Mitch hit the ground, the gun going off once more as it flew out of his hand.

Jeff came running, taking in the sight of Mitch struggling to right himself and get to the gun. Before Mitch could collect his thoughts and make a grab for Virgil, who lay ominously still behind him, Jeff lunged for him, grabbing him by a handful of hair and dragging him upright before letting go with a punch into which he put all his fury and hatred. Mitch dropped instantly and Jeff, ignoring the sudden burst of agony from what felt like four broken knuckles, was on top of him, a knee digging hard into his back to keep him from moving. He wouldn't have been able to anyway – the hit had knocked him out cold. Reaching out for the gun with his good hand, Jeff felt a sudden euphoria at overpowering Mitch, but it only lasted for a brief moment before a wave of dread swept over him as he turned his attention to his son.

Virgil lay motionless, his eyes tightly closed. Jeff reached out to him, but he was too far away for him to reach.

"Virgil? _Virgil?" _Surely that last bullet hadn't hit him? Jeff felt a moment of panic the like of which he'd never felt before – and over the past year he'd panicked more than he'd ever done in his life.

Virgil didn't answer – he couldn't. For a moment he'd thought he might pass out, unable to catch a breath – he'd hit the ground hard and the bullet had missed him by inches.

"_Virgil!" _The alarm in his father's voice was clear now, forcing Virgil to respond. Slowly he opened his eyes and sat up. For a moment he looked blankly at the scene in front of him – Mitch out cold on the ground and his father alive and well, though apparently nursing a damaged hand – not quite able to believe that it was real. Then he focused more clearly on his father. Jeff looked close to tears as he reached a hand out to him. Seeing Virgil physically unharmed was a relief, but he was still desperately worried about his emotional state.

"Are you okay? Come here."

The shock of the night's events suddenly hit him hard and for a moment Virgil wanted more than anything to run to his father and let himself be held. He wanted to go home, to shut himself away and never - _ever_ -face the outside world again. No counselling this time – what was the point? It might be better for everyone. His father wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. After all, he had four other sons who he could be proud of. What would it matter if Virgil just gave up?

But something held him back. How could he give up now after all he'd faced that night? He'd braved so much: gone back into danger to rescue his brothers, fought Ryan and even tackled an armed Mitch in order to save his father's life. Had he really done all that just to break down once it was all over? Was he really going to disappoint his father again?

"I'm alright, Dad." It came out in a shaky whisper, not in the confident, steady voice he was hoping for, but it was what Jeff needed to hear and the relief he felt in seeing his son fighting his demons and seemingly winning, was clear in his voice.

"I know you are," he said. "You did well, Virgil. You saved my life. I'm proud of you, son."

Virgil managed a smile. It didn't last long though.

"You're hurt," he said anxiously, suddenly noticing how Jeff's hand hung limply at his side.

"I hit him a bit harder than I intended too," Jeff admitted, bringing an unexpectedly bright smile to his son's face.

"He deserved it. He hit Scott," Virgil pointed out. He looked around. "Where's the other one?"

Jeff explained Carl's change of heart to the accompaniment of several frustrated grunts and curses from a decidedly groggy Mitch. Virgil considered this for a moment.

"You're sure he won't come back?"

"He won't," Jeff assured him. "Anyway, I've got this one's gun. We'll be fine."

"What are we going to do now? " Virgil asked. He really wanted to go home.

Jeff shrugged, gritting his teeth in pain. "The police will be looking for us. It's a pity we had to change cars. We should probably think about getting back to the road. Not sure what we can do about him, though. " He indicated Mitch, who he still knelt on.

Virgil considered this for a moment.

Maybe he's got a phone – we can call for help." He realised his father, with one hand holding the gun and the other damaged, wouldn't be able to help, so, steeling himself, he began to search Mitch's pockets himself. The man struggled as much as he could with Jeff's weight holding him down, but Virgil finally drew out a phone with a triumphant smile.

Jeff looked at him in admiration – he really had expected Virgil to break down and his son's determination to cope with what had happened surprised and delighted him. Whether he'd be so calm when all this had really sunk in was anyone's guess – and how his other sons would cope was another cause for concern – but he could see that Virgil wasn't going to crack like he had last time.

The signal was faint but steady and Virgil dialled 911 before holding the phone up for his father. It appeared that there was a state wide alert out because the operator knew immediately who it was and patched him through to Frank Linley. A hurried conversation followed and then they waited, a sullen Mitch glaring at each of them in turn, but making no effort to escape.

Virgil still couldn't quite believe it was over. As the sounds of a helicopter became more distinct, he looked over at his father who was alternating between angry glares at Mitch and softer glances in his direction. He knew his father had meant it when he'd said he was proud of him. For the first time in his life he felt he'd lived up to the Tracy name. He'd expected that each new event that night would break him, but he'd held on. And now it was over and he was safe. He knew there was bound to be a reaction, but he was quietly confident that he'd cope. He'd help his brothers deal with it too, because he'd been there before and he knew what to do. He gazed up into the sky as the helicopter's searchlight blazed into life, then looked across at his father. They were safe.


	12. Chapter 12

_This was supposed to be a short epilogue but I've discovered it's very hard to end a story... A huge thank you to all of you who've read and reviewed - you've made all the hard work worthwhile and inspired me to keep going. I've got a few more story ideas and I'm looking forward to getting on with the next one. Whirlgirl - I haven't been able to reply to you personally, but I've really appreciated all the reviews - thanks for all the support you've given me. Bee_

Chapter Twelve

At the Tracy house Grandma was sitting tensely by the phone, just as she'd done ever since she'd brought Alan and Gordon back from Charlie's. It was now well into the early hours and she was completely drained, but she knew there would be no sleep that night, not while Jeff and Virgil were still missing. The news that Jeff had offered himself as a hostage in order to save his sons hadn't come as a shock and a fierce pride burned in her as she thought about her son's selfless act. She just wished he'd been able to get Virgil released too. Pride turned to anger for a moment, then to a deep sadness as she thought about her grandson - why did this have to happen to Virgil, who had endured so much already? It just wasn't fair... it wasn't fair to _any _of them. She didn't know which was worse – last summer's long wait for news of Virgil, knowing that he was all alone and in terrible danger, or the knowledge that this time _two _people she cared deeply about were in trouble. What she did know was that the waiting was no easier the second time around. She felt paralysed by the need to wait by the phone with nothing to do but think about all the possible outcomes of the night's events. And whilst she tried to remain positive for the boys' sakes, she knew that there was every chance that this time there wouldn't be a happy ending. As the hours passed she was finding it harder to stop the tears from falling and to stop her voice from shaking when she tried to comfort the other boys.

To Grandma's relief Alan was asleep, though Gordon still wandered around fretfully, refusing to rest until he knew what had happened to his father and Virgil. She'd tried to get him to bed but he'd flown into such an uncharacteristic fit of temper that she'd given up. At least the reunion with his oldest brothers had lifted his spirits for a while. She sighed as she looked over at Scott. The doctors at the hospital had wanted to keep him in for a few more hours but he'd protested so vehemently that they'd finally given Grandma the option of having him moved home; obviously hoping she'd make her grandson see sense. But Grandma was desperate to have as much of her family as remained safely back at the house and – to Scott's surprise and John's frustration, since he'd spent two hours trying to get Scott to behave for the doctors – she'd agreed that Scott could come home. She'd almost regretted her decision when she'd seen him so bruised and shaken. He'd been on edge ever since he'd got home, anxiously pacing around the lounge muttering dark threats against Carl and Mitch until he'd suddenly been overcome with exhaustion and fallen asleep in a chair. John sat quietly now, lost in uneasy thoughts, having long ago given up trying to get Gordon to sit down. Knowing that everyone was reaching breaking point, Grandma looked at the clock again. How much longer was this going to go on?

The sudden ringing of the phone shocked all of them, jerking Scott awake and causing Gordon to let out a startled cry. The boys looked at their grandmother who had snatched up the phone before it could ring a second time. Time seemed to stand still and John felt himself holding his breath as he waited to find out whether this was good or bad news. It was only a second, but it seemed like longer before Grandma let out a cry of relief,

"_Virgil!_ "

Scott, John and Gordon looked at each other, barely able to believe what they were hearing. Virgil was calling? They'd expected the police, or maybe another journalist – they'd already had a couple of tactless requests for interviews. But for it to be Virgil... What was going on? Was he safe or was this just the start of more trouble?

Grandma had recovered from the shock and was firing questions at her grandson almost faster than he could answer.

"What's going on? Where are you? Are you alright? What about your father? Talk to me, darling..."

As the boys crowded around the phone they heard the welcome sound of Virgil's voice and were flooded with relief as he let them know that they were both okay before passing the phone over to his father, who confirmed everything Virgil had said before anxiously enquiring about the other boys.

Grandma had reassured him that everyone – including Scott – was fine, and was just about to pass the phone over to her eldest grandson when Jeff ended the conversation. The police were there he told them, and the relief in his voice was clear. With a promise that both he and Virgil would be home soon, he was gone, leaving the others to celebrate the good news. They knew that eventually every one of them would have to reflect on their experiences and, after what Virgil had gone through in the aftermath of his kidnapping the previous summer, no one was under any illusion that they would just be able to carry on as if nothing had happened. But for now they could just enjoy the feeling of relief that Jeff and Virgil were safe. Gordon seemed back to his usual excitable self as he rushed upstairs to wake Alan and break the good news. Grandma sighed. She was exhausted and all she wanted to do was sleep – there wouldn't be much chance of that now with all four boys awake and waiting impatiently for the missing members of the family to return. It was going to be a long couple of hours...

* * *

Jeff had let Virgil make the call home, thinking he deserved to break the news and take the credit for their safe return. He'd have liked to have spent longer reassuring his mother and talking to his other sons, especially Scott, who was the only one he hadn't seen since all this began, but the sound of someone approaching had led him to cut the call short. He was 99 per cent sure that it would be the police – they'd heard the helicopter come in to land a few minutes ago – but there was always the chance that it would be Carl and his hand tightened on the gun. Not that the gun was any use to him just then – his right hand was useless and he'd always been clumsy with his left. But it would do for show at least. Both he and Virgil tensed as a figure emerged into the clearing, only relaxing when they saw the uniform. A second officer followed close behind and Jeff allowed himself to believe that it really was over.

Mitch made one last futile attempt to buck Jeff off his back, but he had no chance. The police were there and taking over and within seconds he was handcuffed and dragged to his feet. Jeff stood back and watched in satisfaction as he was marched away, still cursing and complaining, then turned to Virgil, noticing the flicker of anxiety which crossed his face as his eyes moved to the gun Jeff still held. Handing it over to the remaining policeman and glad to be rid of it, he smiled across at his son and held out his good hand, but Virgil kept his distance, confusing Jeff for a moment – he'd assumed it was the proximity of the gun which had stopped Virgil from seeking the comfort of a hug. He wondered what was going through his son's head right now. With a sigh he realised that although the initial ordeal was at an end, all his sons, especially Virgil, would have a long road ahead as they came to terms with what had happened. He was going to have a hard job himself, he thought, remembering the mistakes he'd made last time. Now he'd have to deal with the after effects of his own experiences as well as helping his five sons. Despite the fact that he could have used a hug himself at that moment, he understood Virgil's need to deal with this in his own way and forced himself to adopt his usual matter-of-fact demeanour.

"Let's go home, son." The simple words spoke volumes.

Virgil smiled, trying to keep his jumbled feelings of anxiety and relief under control.

"Good idea, Dad. It's been a long night."

Jeff nodded his agreement. "But probably not over just yet. I've got a feeling that we're going to have to answer a lot of questions before we get the chance to sleep." The police were going to need statements, he thought, and then there was the inevitable barrage of questions they'd face from their family.

Keeping his good hand on Virgil's shoulder, he urged his son on through the trees, following the policeman back to the helicopter. By now a couple of police cars had reached them and Mitch, quiet now but still glaring sullenly at everyone around him, was soon sitting in one of them. The police were sensitive enough to understand that neither Jeff nor Virgil would want to spend an hour sitting in a helicopter in close proximity to the man who had caused them so much distress that night.

As Jeff had anticipated there had been a long series of questions to be answered and he had to fight to control his impatience at times. As they told their stories another helicopter flew overhead, its searchlights illuminating the scene for a few moments and Jeff wondered how long Carl would be able to hide. Despite his anger towards the man he felt a certain grudging sense of gratitude towards him. Not that that would stop him doing everything in his power to find him if the police search didn't reveal his whereabouts. No one was going to put his sons through something like this and get away with it, no matter how much their conscience might have pricked them in the end. The amount of reward money he could offer would ensure that eventually Carl would have to pay for what he'd done.

Despite the pain, Jeff refused the offer of a trip to the local hospital to get his hand treated. He just wanted to get home. But it was almost dawn before he and Virgil were finally strapped into their seats ready for takeoff. It was only once they were inside the helicopter and Jeff could see Virgil clearly that he wondered if he should have gone for the hospital option after all. Virgil was bleeding from a number of deep scratches to his face and hands. With his pale face and the dark smudges under his eyes, he looked terrible.

Virgil was surprised and a little worried when he saw the look on his father's face.

"What's wrong? Is your hand hurting?"

"Never mind me, look at the state of you!"

He'd immediately demanded a first aid kit, much to Virgil's annoyance. The boy had only been able to take so much of his father's clumsy one–handed attempts to clean him up before shrugging him off, his frustration obvious.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just stop fussing, will you?"

He'd felt guilty immediately as Jeff's face fell, knowing that looking after him was helping his father and probably taking his mind off his own pain. But he remembered how his father had become so overprotective last time and he really didn't want him to fall into the same trap again. He knew that although the events of the night were over, the aftermath was just beginning and, quite apart from his own concerns about how he'd react this time, he worried about his brothers, already feeling responsible for ensuring that no one else in his family fell into the kind of depression he'd suffered after the events of last summer. He knew the next few weeks weren't going to be easy.

Jeff sat back a little guiltily, realising what Virgil was thinking. His son was probably right. At that moment he just wanted to lock all his boys away in order to keep them safe. Looking over at Virgil, who right now, he thought, was handling this a lot better than he'd expected, he wondered how they were going to deal with this. The thought of any more of his sons going through all that Virgil had experienced over the last year was unbearable. He knew that Virgil's original experience had been a whole lot worse than anything anyone had endured that night, but that didn't mean that anyone was guaranteed an easy time of it. As soon as he got home, he thought, he'd be on the phone to Antonia, booking them all in for a few sessions – well, all the boys, at least. His mother too, if she wanted it. He knew the waiting couldn't have been easy for the only member of the family who hadn't been in any danger that night.

It was early morning when the helicopter got them back to the city. They stopped at the hospital first so that Jeff could get treatment for his broken hand. He'd protested, arguing that since he'd put up with it for this long he could last a little while longer- at least until after he'd seen his boys- but Virgil, who'd spent most of the flight anxiously registering every wince and grimace of pain from his father, had insisted he get himself looked at. Jeff had grudgingly agreed. After all, when he finally got home he wasn't going to want to leave his family again for a while.

The police had offered to take Virgil home to save him waiting around in the hospital and he'd hesitated for a long moment before refusing. Actually he wanted nothing more than to get back to the safety of his home, but he knew how easy it had been to hide himself away after the last time. He was scared of how he might react this time, constantly on the lookout for any sign that he might be falling back into his old habits, so he stoically insisted on staying with his father. He had a moment of the old anxiety when his father had been taken off for x-rays and he'd been left alone, but it was just a flicker, nothing like the horrendous panic he'd experienced before and he was able to calm himself down fairly quickly.

As he sat in the waiting room – the same one where he'd endured the long wait for Scott's arrival after Grandma's fall - he passed the time with another phone call home. He was relieved to hear that Gordon and Alan were fine, though a little taken aback to discover that they'd had to trek through the dark streets and take refuge in a bar. Alan seemed none the worse for his experience, babbling happily about Charlie and Barclay and the thrill of a ride in a police car and Virgil was glad that at least someone had got something positive out of the experience.

He ended the call when a nurse arrived to take a look at his face and hands. This time he sat quietly and let her do her job and it was soon over. The friendly nurse disappeared for a few minutes then reappeared with a drink and a bar of chocolate. By that point even the welcome boost of sugar hadn't been enough to help him fight the tiredness and he'd drifted off to sleep.

Jeff had been given VIP treatment and he and Virgil were soon on their way home. When they finally alighted from the police car, they found the rest of their family waiting on the porch to welcome them back. It was an enthusiastic reunion and it was some time before Scott, John and Jeff finally got a hold of themselves and broke away from the others. Everyone was finally ushered inside by Grandma, ready for a late breakfast and a sharing of stories.

* * *

An hour later, with everyone sitting comfortably in the lounge, Jeff and Virgil told the others everything that had happened to them. Alan listened in wide-eyed interest and Virgil tried to play down his ordeal, glad that his brother seemed to be dealing with everything well and not wanting to unsettle him. If he was young enough to see this as some kind of adventure, then all well and good, though remembering how terrified he'd been during the initial capture, he had his doubts that his brother would escape completely unaffected. Gordon snuggled up close to him, having run out of words to tell his brother how glad he was to see him again and how grateful he was to him for saving him. Gordon's unnatural quietness worried Virgil and he knew that his next youngest brother would need a fair bit of reassurance over the days to come.

Scott and John were being typically Tracy and showing little emotion, though Virgil wasn't fooled, noticing how Scott's hands shook a little and sensing that it wasn't entirely because of the blow to his head. John was always thoughtful and most people wouldn't have noticed anything amiss, but Virgil could see that right now there was a faraway look in his eyes which suggested that he was having a tougher time dealing with all that had happened that night than he was letting on. Virgil felt relieved that he'd have distractions from his own struggles over the next few days. How could he drift back into the state he'd been in before when he was the only one who could help his brothers? He was determined to keep his composure and show them that they could get through this. He'd have to put any negative thoughts aside now or risk sinking into that abyss of misery once more. But would he be able to? There was something he had to know. Did everyone blame him? He couldn't help his brothers – or his father – if they thought all this was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

"What for?" John asked, concerned when Virgil turned to him with an anxious look on his face.

"For making you buy Barclay, then for suggesting we go back to look for him. I wouldn't blame any of you if you thought it was all my fault."

The chorus of disapproval at this comment was loud and forceful. It was left to Grandma to put an end to it.

"It wasn't your fault, Virgil. It was all down to those men. Don't you dare blame yourself!"

Well, there was never any arguing with Grandma!

Jeff added his own words of reassurance and Virgil finally looked happier.

"I guess so. I just thought maybe..."

"Don't be silly," Scott said, giving him an affectionate punch on the arm. "I could have refused to go back. Goodness knows I wanted to leave that stupid bear there. Blame me for giving in."

Alan looked hurt. "We had to go back for Barclay. I told you, he's my lucky bear."

Gordon laughed bitterly.

"_Lucky?_ How do you make that out?" It had never occurred to him to blame Virgil. He still nurtured an irrational belief that the bear was to blame.

"Well, we're all back safe, aren't we?"

Gordon couldn't argue with that, but he cast a thoughtful gaze over the bear – it was his fault and he'd pay. Okay, Alan had fallen in love with it so he couldn't do anything _too _bad, but there were any number of possibilities and Gordon was determined to explore each and every one. That bear was going to suffer. It was something to look forward to and he decided he needed that right now. He didn't see Virgil watching him with a smile as he guessed just what his brother was thinking.

Jeff had been quiet, but now he had something to say. He needed to get his own issues out into the open.

"If anyone should be apologising, Virgil, it's me."

"What for?" Virgil asked in surprise.

"For letting those men take you with them. I should have guessed they'd try something like that."

Virgil was silent for a moment, taken aback by his father's apology. He was remembering the way he'd doubted his father when he was kidnapped before, wondering if he'd given up on him as the days had passed and there had been no sign of rescue. The past year had shown him just how much his father cared for him and his actions in sacrificing himself for his sons had just confirmed it.

"It wasn't your fault, Dad. I know you just wanted to get us out of there. You tried to save us both, I know."

"Anyway, Dad," John chimed in, "It's just as well Virg was there to stop Mitch shooting you."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. He turned to his brother, "I guess you saved all of us last night, didn't you, Virg?"

Jeff, John, Gordon and Alan agreed enthusiastically, expressing their thanks once again.

Scott smiled as Virgil blushed and shuffled uncomfortably, knowing how much his brother hated to be the centre of attention like this. Tough, he thought – Virgil deserved all the praise and he'd just have to put up with it for a while. Looking at Virgil he felt a sense of immense pride at the way his brother had risked not just his life, but the emotional stability which he'd worked so hard to regain over the past year. His own experience hadn't been pleasant and he thought he might have had it easy by spending most of it either unconscious or in a slight daze, but he knew that Virgil must have had to battle not just the fears of everything which had happened that night, but everything which had happened to him before, plus the terrible aftermath. He felt a surge of admiration and affection for his brother. He couldn't quite believe that Virgil hadn't fallen apart now that it was all over.

"Virg, how come you're so calm?" he asked. "No offence, but after what happened last time I thought you might start panicking again. I can't believe you're coping so well."

"I should thank Antonia, I guess," Virgil said. "But it's not just that. Last time, it was personal, you know – they wanted me, no one else. And it was a lot worse then..." He broke off, remembering some of the more terrifying moments of his kidnapping before determinedly pushing the thoughts away. He'd thought a lot about this at the hospital as he'd waited for his father to be treated. Last night hadn't been pleasant, but it hadn't been nearly as bad as before. He realised his family were watching him and smiled, determined to show them he was okay.

"This time it was just bad luck. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just coincidence. And to be honest, I'm more worried about the rest of you. I've been through it before – I know I'll be okay this time. I just don't want any of you to feel like I did after the last time."

Jeff shivered as his son echoed Carl's words. He wondered if the man had been found yet. Before he could comment, Gordon spoke up, a slight waver in his voice.

"Virg," he said. "What if I have nightmares like you did?" He looked anxiously at his brother who hugged him tightly. Grandma wondered if that had been part of the reason why the boy had been so reluctant to go to sleep while they waited for news and felt a moment's guilt for not thinking of it at the time. A sign of how badly she'd been affected herself, she thought.

"You'll be fine, Gords." No one heard what Virgil whispered to his brother after that, though John, who was closest, thought he heard Barclay's name mentioned. Whatever Virgil had said it brought a smile back to Gordon's face.

Scott broke the comfortable silence which had fallen. "Hey, Virg," he said suddenly. "The press are going to love this. You'll be famous again. And you get to be the hero this time."

Virgil groaned. "Great. I've had enough of being in the news. Last year was bad enough."

Jeff frowned and began to consider what he was going to say to the press. Time to call his lawyers and put out a statement, he thought. His mother had taken the phone off the hook and he didn't even want to guess how many calls there'd been. At least no journalists could get to the house. Frank Linley hadn't quite managed to hide his annoyance when he'd greeted Jeff as he'd disembarked from the helicopter, but he'd told him he'd stationed officers outside the house to stop the press getting near. He and Virgil had returned via the back entrance to avoid their attention, but he knew he'd have to face them eventually.

When I'm a racing driver I'm going to be famous," Alan said sleepily. "And Gordon, when he's a champion swimmer."

"John can be a famous astronaut," said Scott.

"And you can be poster boy for the air force," John laughed. "What about you, Virgil? Famous artist? Composer? Superhero?"

"No thanks," Virgil laughed.

"What? No more adventures?" Scott teased.

"Scott, I've had enough adventure in the last year. More than most people have in a lifetime. The chances of anything else exciting happening to me are zero and that's fine by me. You guys can have all the fun from now on." He yawned, setting off a chain reaction around the room.

"Right," said Grandma, looking around at the array of sleepy boys and their equally exhausted father. "Bedtime, all of you. You're all worn out."

There was no argument and one by one the boys followed their grandmother out of the room until only Virgil and Jeff were left. John had been the last to leave and Virgil had been surprised when he'd ruffled his hair affectionately. The gesture had conveyed a lot. John would never admit just how scared he'd been, but it had given him a whole new insight into his brother's bravery – both that night and during his kidnapping - and his respect for Virgil had shot up that night. Virgil understood what his brother couldn't actually bring himself to say and the gesture made him feel a whole lot better.

"Virgil?" Jeff asked, as his son rose to leave.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Are you really going to be okay?"

Virgil considered the question.

"I think so. It might be hard for a while, but I don't feel like I did before. I'm not scared of going out or facing people – at least I don't think I am. It wasn't the same – I wasn't alone this time. And it was my choice to be there... well, some of the time, at least. I think I'll be okay."

"Good." Jeff still looked troubled.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Will _you_ be alright?"

Jeff looked at him in surprise. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, before... it was obvious you were really upset and then you got really overprotective. I know you probably don't want us leaving the house for a bit, but you have to let us. Especially Gordon and Alan – it would be easy to smother them, but you can't. There's another game next week, you know. I think we should all go - just to show them there's nothing to be scared of."

Jeff looked at him long and hard.

"You've thought it all through, haven't you?"

"Guess so." He wandered across to the piano, running a hand across the lid. Jeff watched anxiously – Virgil had done that a lot after his return home the last time, apparently needing to feel as well as see familiar things in order to reassure himself that he really was home again.

"Will the police bring the car back?"

Jeff was surprised by the question. He wasn't sure he wanted it back, considering the memories which would now be associated with it.

"I guess so. I don't know if I want to drive it again, though. Not after tonight."

Virgil looked at him in surprise.

"But you love the Porsche."

It was true – it was a classic model which Jeff had paid a fortune to have restored.

"But every time I'll drive it I'll think about those two men. It won't be the same. It's been... contaminated."

Virgil frowned and shook his head.

"Then you'll have to get rid of all of us too. We've been _contaminated_ as well, if you follow that argument. Come on, Dad, you know you'd miss that car."

Jeff looked at his son, taken aback at the maturity of his words. He knew that what Virgil was saying made sense, but he felt a sudden sadness that his son should have experienced so many terrible things and been forced to grow up so fast. He wasn't even thirteen yet. He felt a blaze of anger towards Mitch and the others before realising that really he was directing his rage at the wrong people. All the fury he felt should be directed further back - at the Redmans. It was their fault that Virgil's last years of childhood had been ruined. But then if Virgil hadn't had such a terrible experience the previous summer and had to work so hard to recover, would he have acted so bravely last night? Would all his sons be here now if Virgil hadn't made such an effort to help them? Everything that had happened last summer had helped mould Virgil's character, he thought, and at that moment he was prouder than ever of his son. So if Virgil thought he should keep the car...

"Well, if you think so. Would you ever be able to ride in it again, though?"

Virgil surprised him by laughing. "I hardly ever got a ride in it before, Dad. And you've never let Gordon or Alan in it at all, remember?"

Well, he thought defensively, it was his pride and joy and no place for the inevitable crumbs or sticky fingers. Still, things like that didn't seem important any more.

"Okay, how about the two of us go off for a drive – once I can hold the steering wheel, that is..." Jeff looked at his strapped-up hand.

"Okay," Virgil smiled. "I'd like that."

He yawned again. "Night, Dad, I really need some sleep."

"Sleep well, son" Jeff said affectionately, rising from his chair and stretching his arms above his head as he yawned.

"I will. You too."

Jeff looked grim. "I think I'll have nightmares about this for the rest of my life."

Virgil thought for a minute then smiled.

"Well, I know a good counsellor."

Laughing at his father's appalled expression he headed off to bed. It seemed like weeks since he'd been in his own room. His thoughts drifted back to his return after his kidnapping when everything was so strange and unsettled and he felt a momentary resentment that he should have been put in this position once again. Crawling into bed he thought gratefully that he'd soon be thirteen – twelve had been a horrible age and he found himself hoping that whatever the future held it would be far less traumatic and eventful than this last year. As he drifted off to sleep he considered what he'd told his brothers and decided he was right - there would be no more drama, just a quiet, normal life from now on. After all, what else could possibly lie in store for him?


End file.
